


Feast your eyes

by Fawkespryde



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Sideshow - Fandom
Genre: Adding the dark tags now, Cannibalism, Dark Sideshow, F/M, Gen, It might be time to bring in the major character death tag, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, One. Last. Job., Prison break time, Recreational Drug Use, Some unnamed characters get fucking bombed, basically its a gta au dipped to the elbow in blood, but basically..., polysideshow, the relationship and character tag will be updated as they are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawkespryde/pseuds/Fawkespryde
Summary: He's a hooded figure, nervously carrying a package as sirens are heard in the distance.***He's a hunter, sitting in a small bar, watching and waiting for new prey to pass by.***He's a problem solver, the kind you can't look up in the yellowpages.***He's behind bars, grinning in wait as the entire facility goes into lockdown.





	1. Taste the flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feast your eyes is finally seeing more updates and extra additions to to each chapter.
> 
> Finally I can put out stuff that I am proud of again :)

***

 

He saw him for the first time at a small bar called The Maverick. The location was not much to speak of and the building was crushed between the old stonework of a church and subway station but many people found their way there regardless. Whether it was after a long day of work, there was always the usual crowd of people there that looked almost as apart of the bar as the stools were.

The Maverick was a hole in the wall dive for the lower class citizens and those too tired to seek warmth further into the city. People with backgrounds, people that didn’t want to be found, those who just wanted a drink without questions would flock here, filling the old worn seats and taking refuge against the scratched countertop of the bar. In a way, the rundown look of the place made people feel more at home when they crowded into the old booths and shadowy corners.

It was here that the words flowed as smooth as the weathered beer tap they drew their drinks from. The music was but a low hum in the background, a ceaseless sound that provided ambiance for the lull of the people talking within the bar. The chatter passing from political opinions to inane conversations of everyday problems. Never staying on one topic too long. There were ears everywhere and even in the safety of the Maverick, there was certain business that people just didn’t acknowledge.

But it was here and only here where everyone was equal. Very rarely did arguments break out. Even rarer so, did arguments resort to physical violence. Any issues that occurred were usually dealt with by the bartender himself, a man of few words but many scars to back up his reputation. Since most of the customers came to The Maverick to not be bothered by cops or other law enforcement agencies, the owners enforced things themselves. What issue couldn’t be solved with words, usually ended up being fixed with a baseball bat.

Here at the Maverick on a cool Sunday evening, he sat down and ordered a drink. No one even gave him a sideways glance as one drink turned to two and then three. He paid for the drinks as they showed up and caused no issues, content to just drink in quiet contemplation, eyes wandering the colourful miasma of people talking and drinking around the room. Twenty minutes and four drinks in is when he found his fixation.

It was not in words or conversation but in a sight. A lovely marvel he suddenly had the pleasure to behold as the man walked past his bar stool and leaned on the counter next to him. His breath stuttered, his heart skipped a beat and his fingers ceased their tempo of taps on the bar. He lifted his glass to his lips, watching the gorgeous man through the reflection on the surface.

The man ordered a drink with a simple indication with two fingers, not saying a word but his coy smirk said all. A regular, he mused. The bartender seemed to know him as well and nodded, allowing him to walk away with a tab instead of paying. He must come here often and yet he had never seen him before. Just as he was musing that fact, the newcomer slid away back into the crowd, drink in hand and a hand running through his hair..

He was starstruck, watching him go till he disappeared into the back of the bar with a sway of his hips. There was no way he was going to let someone like him slip through his fingers. Someone like that only came once in a lifetime and he wasn’t going to pass up on the chance to see more of that gorgeous shade. He stood up and looked around for the flash of colour that had caught his attention.

Red. At first he thought it was a trick of the light but the closer he got, the more defined the colour got. The man had gorgeous strands of copper just begging to have fingers running through them. He stood and crossed the bar, sucking in a deep breath as eyes looked up at him. So sharp. So intelligent. They took hold of his gaze and held on, not letting him be swayed in the least.

He’ll remember that look for a thousand lifetimes to come. That man's gaze was so striking, even hidden behind glasses. His stare would definitely stay with him, burned forever into his mind. Even closing his own eyes, he could see them. Alluring. Soft but sharp. Inviting and yet, all too tempting, like a serpent beckoning him closer.

He never made it a point to drink past his limits, never found a reason to but he felt his lips go dry and his throat parched at the thought of approaching him. He would need the liquid courage and now that he knew that the other man was seated and not going anywhere, he allowed himself to indulge in another drink. He stepped back to the bar and called the bartender's attention to himself.

A moment passed and with a glass in hand, he found himself drawn to the figure seated alone in the booth, one leg crossed over the other. His tongue felt heavy suddenly and the words uncharacteristically tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

“You look as though you're seeking company, may I?” He gestured with a glass to the seat. To his delight, his words were met with a slow, sensual smirk and a nod. The redhead had a glass of his own, something dark and smoky swirling against ice cubes that made a satisfying clink as he brought the drink to his lips.

He slid into the booth and sat across from him, almost stumbling as his eyes followed the curve of his throat, watching it bob with each measured swallow. Once the glass was empty, the other man rested it back onto the oak table. The redhead shifted his weight till he was lounged back in a more comfortable position, their shoes brushing as he moved.

“If I were.. seeking company, as you so nicely put it…” The redheaded man spoke for the first time. It was practically a purr and his tone was a deep baritone that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. “Does that mean your willing to provide it?”

He was never one for subtlety but he was so sure the other didn't mind, judging by the sly smile he received as his eyes trailed over his body. He was mentally painting a lovely picture of him, laid out on his bed and looking up at him with that fierce gaze, face painted as red as his hair. If he was lucky, not only would he have fine company over dinner but he would find himself with a warm bed tonight.

“That depends.. Would you like to discuss it more over dinner?”

The redhead looked contemplative for all of three seconds, a slender finger tracing under his chin as he thought, before nodding with a smile. “How could I say no to an offer like that?”

“Tanner.” He introduced with an offered hand, taking the other mans in his grip.

There was a brief shake and the redhead smirked up at him, the tilt of his head giving a glint of light off his glasses as he did so. “Jared.”

Just like that, with the man’s tab paid and introductions made, they got up and walked out the door together. The hunter, pleased as punch that his evening was coming to a successful end and his unfortunate prey, unaware of the noose that tightening the further into the wolf's den he walked. The bell dinged as the door was opened and just like that, both men were gone with the wind.

***

The door to his apartment barely made it closed before the two of them were all over each other. Tanner’s body was pinned to the wall and he felt hands wandered to his hips, already unclasping the belt with skilled hands.

“No dinner I guess?” He panted up at the redhead with burning cheeks and handfuls of his shirt. He received a deep chuckle in response. The noise reverberated against his throat as Jared kissed along the flesh there. The man trailed his tongue along his collar, tasting the salt before backing up enough to rest against the crook of his neck. His hot breath could be felt against reddened skin.

Jared looked up with a dark lust in his eyes. “You’re dinner, baby.” He whispered, finally pulling the belt free from its loop.

“Heh, you’re adorable.” Tanner stroked a finger against his cheek and took ahold of his chin with a gentle pinch. He leaned up, standing on the balls of his feet to be at the same height as the redhead and led him into a kiss.

His hands inched up the Jared’s sweater and they pulled away just long enough for it to go over his head and onto the floor. Next went the belt and finally, Tanner’s hands started to work on his shirt.

Before that, Jared pulled away panting and lowered the material back down as if to cover himself. He coughed into his fist and popped the question, one hand patting at the back pocket of his jeans. “Condoms?” He pulled off a sheepish look well, despite being half dressed and with his pants hanging low on his hips.

“Upstairs.” Tanner smirked, a deep need filling his stomach at the sight of the others body so exposed before him. He clenched his jaw and looked away, letting out a slow exhale to try and steady his nerves. He hadn’t eaten properly in days and having the man’s warmth so close to him was making it difficult to resist. Before his thought could stray any further, Jared pulled his weight away from him and gave him a once over with a hungry gaze of his own.

The redhead ran one hand through his hair while the other hooked a thumb under the elastic of his boxers. “Lead the way~”

Ignoring his growling stomach, Tanner pushed himself off the door and started up the stairs. He let out a small yelp as a hand smacked him on the rear end and he turned to give Jared a raised brow and a laugh. “Hands off the product. You break it you buy it.”

“I fully intend on breaking you by the time I’m finished with you.” Jared snarled in that low tone that had his toes curling in pleasure and he wrapped arms around him from behind. He grabbed at the man’s waist, pulling him against him with a roll of his hips.

Tanner let out a shaky breath in response. “Keep that up and we won’t make it upstairs.” He glanced over at the dining room table in longing. His mind painting a pretty picture of Jared laid out across it, writhing beneath him as he sinks teeth into his throat. His heartbeat picked up at the phantom taste of copper in his mouth.

His hunger ached again and he allowed himself to be pushed back against the railing, one hand find a good handhold on Jared’s shoulder. Tanner pulled him down and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling the warmth there before opening his mouth wide in a hungry snarl. He dove in without warning, teeth sinking into the thick meat of his shoulder, drawing blood at the bite.

“-the fuck!?!” Jared growled, his reactions switched from panic to anger in the flash of a second. Too fast for him to have been just a regular citizen. He grabbed a handful of Tanner’s hair while his other came up to jab at his throat.

Choking from the strike, Tanner lost his grip and was thrown backwards by the hand in his hair. He tasted blood in his mouth and looked up from his crouched position at the top of the stairs. “And you said I was dinner-” He cackled, rubbing a thumb along his red stained lips. He drew a long, thin blade from the holster running down the inside of his pant leg. “-baby.”

He watched the other man’s expression turn from one of disbelief to glee. Jared reached behind him and lifted the back of his shirt. The one article of clothing he had been hesitant to remove. As if he had been hiding something. Suddenly, Tanner didn’t feel so good about the upper hand he had before.

“I am going to fucking kill you.” Jared yelled up at the man. He stopped covering the bleeding wound in favour of a two handed grip on the pistol he drew. The dark metal had a gorgeous red sheen to it and despite being small enough to conceal, looked as though it packed quite a punch.

Tanner let out a nervous laugh and stepped backwards, raising his hands in the air. “Now wait a minute. Let’s think about this maybe two more times than the time were thinking about.” At the other mans confused look, he threw his blade at him and took off running down the hallway.

He could tell the blade didn’t meet its mark by the sound of it hitting wood but he didn’t look back, knowing every second was integral to his survival. He ducked into his bedroom and slammed the door in the redheads face just as he caught up to him, locking it moments before the handle jiggled.

“You little fucker. Take a bite out of me, who the fuck do you think you are?!” The sound of something heavy slamming into the door was heard and Tanner braced a chair against it to buy himself some time.

He dug into his pocket and grabbed his phone, dialing the one man who could help him in this situation with bloodied fingers. Normally he would take of the problem alone but from how Jared fought, he could only assume he was from a competing gang. He’d need immediate cleanup duty if this man proved to be someone high ranking.

Tanner balanced the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he rolled back the carpet to get at his hidden stash under the floorboards. The sounds of a boot continually impacting the bedroom door could be heard in the background.

“C’mon, pick up…”

 

***


	2. Lawlman in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When shit gets bad in your neighbourhood.  
> Who you gonna call? Lawlman

***

He was seated at the end of the docks when his phone rang. The soft jingle drawing his attention from the stones he flicked into the water before him. He skipped a particularly flat rock across the surface, counting the three ripples it made before sinking and retrieved his phone from his inside suit pocket.

“Lawlman here, how may I help you?”

The voice on the other side of the phone was a welcome one indeed and his posture eased up, leg dangling over the edge of the dock in a lazy fashion. He nodded as the other spoke, his gaze still on the water before him. One hand rose up to adjust his glasses before stroking his chin in a inquisitive display. He could hear the sound of banging in the background and his curiosity was peaked.

“Hey that sounds fun. I assume this call is an open invitation for me to join?” He smiled and hummed in response to the frantic question posed to him. There was a brief moment of ponder where he lifted his watch to gaze at the time before he shrugged, a bright smile blooming across his features. Had anyone been around, it would have been a real treat to see.

“Say please.” Lawlman laughed and shook his head at the sound of a frustrated yell from whoever was trying to break down the door. The voice was distant but sounded so familiar. Before he could expand on that thought, he heard gunfire coming through. His mood immediately shifted from playful to serious. “I’ll be there asap. Don’t fucking dying on me.”

With that, he returned the phone to his pocket and stood up, adjusting his tie and suit jacket as he did so. He rolled his shoulders and patted his waist to ensure his sidearms were still safely tucked away from view. A few joggers passed him on the walk out but paid him no mind as he returned to his vehicle parked nearby.

The engine purred content as a cat sunbathing and glided smoothly from its parked position facing the waters edge. He turned into the back streets of the city, the only place he could pick up speed without worry of being pulled over. Time was of the essence and his radio playing as a soft backdrop to his actions as he tapped the steering wheel in time to the fast beat.

Lawlman glanced over at the screen on his dash and frowned at the time. Bed was good friend and while he was willing to help him in his time of need, he also had a paid job he had to go to in a half hour and he prided himself with his work. He was not going to be late just because Bed decided to take a rival gang member out to dinner. He had a job after all.

Lawlman was what he considered himself to be, a problem solver. He was someone that spoke more with his work than his words. Because of that his influence was very extensive. You don't get to where he was in life without having to turn a blind eye to others secrets.

And the people who called him for help where usually the ones with the most to lose. They had too many problems and not enough means of handling their issues. The type of issues that even years of therapy couldn’t solve. The type that you can’t put an ad out in the yellow pages for. The type that people would pay handsomely to keep out of the public eye.

Minutes later, his car turned off the main street and down a lane way that passed by rows of wooden fences on both sides. He slowed down his pace and counted the backyards as he passed them till he came up to one he recognized. The dark stained wood stood out ever so slightly from the other cookie cutter homes nearby.

Lawlman parked next to the gate and popped open his trunk, taking out a pool cue case. He slung the leather case over one shoulder and adjusted his tie before stepping into the backyard. The grass was a healthy shade of green and trailed dew on the cuff of his pants as he stepped into the back porch. He slipped into the shade of the canopy till he was pressed against the wall, out of view of anyone who may of been passing by.

One glance across the backyard ensured no one was looking and he popped open the leather case, retrieving the parts of his automatic rifle secured inside. He swiftly screwed the parts together with expertise speed. Once assembled, he unclasping a clip from the back of his belt and slid the ammo into the gun. He pulled the bolt back and the satisfying click confirmed it was loaded. The side of the gun had a large comedy mask spray painted in white. The shape was a stark contrast to the black metal.

He opened the backdoor one handedly, not surprised in the least at the fact that it was unlocked. Bed always seemed to invite chaos into his life. The door swung open with a wooden creak and he slipped into the dark hallway. The home was deathly quiet as Lawlman cleared each room on the first floor. His attention was drawn to the second floor at the sound of a thump just above his head.

“-the hell?” He whispered, eyes locked on the stairwell in front of him. The rifle stock resting in the crook of his shoulder shifted as he aimed it upwards. His finger curled around the hair trigger, hovering over it but not squeezing. He stepped up onto the stairs and grimaced at the loud creak from his weight.

Lawlman debated on stepping back but brushed off that feeling and committed to moving upstairs at the sight of a thin throwing knife embedded in the wall. He had a job to do and a reputation to uphold, dammit. He got to the top of the steps and stopped at the first door that he knew from earlier visits was the bedroom. It had the dirty outline of a boot print and the latch was busted from an overtly aggressive person breaking it down. The door was slightly ajar and hanging off the hinges.

Lawlman peeked inside and saw two figures inside. Taking a deep breath, he waited out one more crash before forcing the door open with an elbow and pointed his rifle between the two fighting inside. “Alright, why don't we both put the guns down.”

The two men turned to face the man who had entered the room. Both of them looking bruised and bloodied among a torn up room, various bits of furniture and decor smashed around the room.

“Lawlman..” The first man murmured through what sounded like a broken jaw. His shirt was soaked in blood and one arm hung limp, as though it had been dislocated from the socket. He stepped over a broken vase and kept walking in a semi circle so he was standing as far away from the other man as he could. They were on opposite sides of the bed, his eyes and gun never straying from the bruised up redhead in front on him.

“Bed..” Lawlman answered back. Taking in the absurdity of the situation, his hand had already eased up on the trigger. And here he thought Bed was actually in trouble. A dry laugh already falling from his lips. He couldn’t wait to tell Criken this over drinks later.

“Lawlman!?” The redhead growled, his nose at an awkward angle. There was blood crusting around the swollen flesh indicating that it was broken. He had a custom looking desert eagle in his grip, the barrel aimed at Bed. He was looking just as frustrated about the turn of events as everyone else was. There was blood at his hairline and his glasses were missing, probably lost in the mess that was all that remained of the bedroom. Jesus, even the bed was no longer standing on its legs.

And judging from the deep bleeding wound at his neck, someone had attempted to bite off more than they could chew. Well, that would explain why Bed sounded so panicked over the phone. It's not every day that two people with particular dietary habits target each other by mistake.

“Tomato.” Lawlman answered in kind, rifle now completely lowered to the ground.

“Wait, you know this guy?”

“Fucker tried to bit my throat out.”

“You tried to choke me out.”

“After you took a chunk out of me.”

“You promised me dinner!!”

“You said I was dinner. How was I supposed to take that?”

Lawlman looked back and forth between the two of them as they argued. One hand reached up to pinch at his brow and he let out an almost amused huff of breath. “Not that this isn't interesting to watch but am I going to get paid for this or should I just take a loss on this love affair you two have got going on?”

“It's like he's not listening or somethi- wait.. You fucking called Lawlman?” Tomato yelled, his gun lowered a bit but he still looked absolutely livid. Blood had soaked the collar of his shry and his voice was more nasally from the broken nose.

Bed didn't back down either. In fact, his grip tightened on his gun in agitation. “Yeah, well someone has to clean up my messes.. and I fully intended on making a mess of you.”

“You were going to-”

“Oh for fucks sake. Your both cannibals! There, I said it.” Lawlman threw his hands up in the air. He took in both their surprised expressions and laughed at how ridiculous everything had become. “And neither of you knew?! Holy fuck, I've been cleaning up after you two for years and this is the first time either of you have met?”

Bed pointed at Tomato and then back at his own chest. “So, that thing you said earlier.. About me being dinner?”

“Not very subtle.” Lawlman playfully tsk'ed, heading back downstairs without a single glance over his shoulder. He could hear the two upstairs arguing still but from the sounds of things, at least it was more civil and less furniture was getting thrown around this time. “Will you two just kiss and make up already?”

His phone rang in his pocket and he answered it, if only to pretend that he was anywhere but near those two still yelling at each other. “Lawlman here, how may I help you?... Of course, I just cleared my schedule as a matter of fact.” He closed the back door behind him and started to disassemble his rifle under the gazebo.

He lifted his wrist up while working to get a look at the time on his watch. “Sure thing. Give me a few minutes and I'll be there.” With that, he hung up and sorted the pieces of his gun back into its case. Once he clicked the latch shut, he stood up and cupped a hand to his mouth to yell back into the house.

“Alright you fuckers, my work here is done.”

Bed waved at him while leaning over the stairwell railing. Standing behind him was a red faced Tomato who shouted with his arms crossed over his chest. “But you didn't even do anything!”

Lawlman made a dramatic sweeping motion with his suit jacket and slipped into his car, the door slamming shut behind him..

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for commenting their interest in this au. I'm really excited to get back into my writing headspace after being away from it for so long. I used to run a roleplaying blog that was the definition of NSFW and while I'm glad to have distanced myself from that persona that I backed myself into, I'm also all-too-happy to get back into the nitty gritty, bloody teeth and bullet holes. 
> 
> Here's to the start of another brilliantly twisted story.. (Here's hoping I finish it)


	3. Cash on delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you have to get something, you go to a store.
> 
> When you need something that's.. less than legal, you go to Him.

He was running late AGAIN, he surmised when the shop across the street began to close up. Traffic was slowing to a crawl as people began to make their sluggish treks back home and the sun was dipping behind the horizon slowly, regaling the sky in its dying light. The view was… nice.

Not that he'd never admit it out loud but it provided a nice distraction as he paced back and forth in front of the boarded up doors of an old closed cinema.

The woman across the street was in the midst of wiping off the ‘daily specials’ on the chalkboard when her eyes met his. She seemed to assess him for a moment before recollection flicked across her features and with a shake of her head, returned to her duties. She must have known what he waiting for. This area wasn’t exactly subtle about its dealings with dealers.

It didn't bother him. At one point it did. When he was younger, he would shy away from others gazes. But now, he hardly cared that he look sheepish or ashamed. No. Now all he felt was an emptiness in the pit of his stomach and a need that ached deep inside him. His fingers were numb no matter how often he flexed them, clenching and unclenching as he paced. His breathing barely made puffs in the air as warmth not longer left his lips.

He was fine with it. It didn't bother him.

Waiting did. And the man he was waiting for was late… again, it seemed. How long the other intended to keep him waiting was anyone's guess but he couldn't afford to be stalled any longer. His numb fingers tightened in his jacket pockets, clenching around the cold steel within. Something he had brought as a precaution. Last time he was here, someone tried to jump him for his shoes.

He had no intention of letting that happen again. But the time passing didn’t stop the nervousness and hunger that ate as his stomach, the emptiness being eaten by bile as he counted the second, minutes..

“Buck?” A voice called out from the darkness of a nearby backstreet. “Sorry for keeping you waiting man. I hope you weren't out here to long.”

He turned to face the other who had approached him while he was in deep thought. Torn between a scathing remark, he eventually swallowed it in exchange for a smile and casual shrug. No point in making his agitation known now. It wouldn't help him in their exchange to be rude. That’s all he needed, the man refusing to sell what he needed to him because he pissed him off.

“It’s fine, just tell me you got what I need.” The words fell from his lips like a man starving in the desert. In a way, he was. He licked his bottom lip again, eying the backpack on the others back. Was it in there? It had to be.

“Relax, man. Strippin takes care of his little bitches.” The hooded figure stepped next to him, already transferring the backpack off his shoulder. It was settled onto the floor between his feet. “Although he wanted me to tell you that this is the last time he can supply you. Things are getting a bit dicey for him.”

Buck made a upset grunt in the back of his throat and went to take the bag from the man without a second's hesitation but it was held out of his grip. A growl almost crawled its way out of him and he had to bite it back before he pissed off the other man. “I don’t understand, I always pay. Is my business not-”

“It’s not that. Your money is always good. Seriously, I’m blown away but how frequent you’ve been ordering from me.”

“Then what is it?” Buck asked, almost desperate at this point.

The man sighed and scratched under his chin as if trying to break bad news to a child. “I can’t get you what you need anymore.” He put a hand up to cease any sort of rebuttal. “Not just you. Everyone is going through this right now. I can’t get too much into it but I will say, the issue is on our side, not yours.”

Buck felt his eyes water and he looked down to hide his hopeless expression from view. His lips trembled at the thought of going through withdrawals again. “But you know I don't have the means to go out there and get this on my own.”

“Maybe move out of your parents place then?” A smirk could be seen under the shadow of the hood and Bucks head shot up, a frustrated frown on his face. He stomped over to snatch the backpack from his grip and jabbed a finger at his chest. If this was the last time they would meet, there was no reason to be nice anymore.

“First of all, I am in the middle of moving and you know that. But still, it has nothing to do with that. It's just..” Buck took a deep breath and glanced away, his stomach growling in urgency. He retrieved an envelope from his back pocket and held it out in offering. “I can't do it. I can't bring myself to hurt someone no matter how hungry I am.”

The dealer didn’t seem at all disturbed by his angry outburst and instead just nodded as he spoke. “Look man, I’ve delivered some weird shit over the time so you won't find any judgement from me. But take it from me when I say this-” The hooded man took the envelope and opened it. He ran his thumb over the edge of bills inside, mentally counting them as he spoke. “-if you don't eat, you starve. It’s as simple as that. You could choose to eat nothing but lettuce and people will still judge your diet. So you do what you have to do to survive.”

Buck threw the backpack over one shoulder and glanced away again. He was growing more frustrated over his situation as the other spoke and just wanted to head back home before people starting worrying about him for being gone so long. “I get it.. I guess. We good?”

“Yeah, we're good.” The man tucked the envelope into the back of his pants, hiding it under his belt. Once he had the money safely tucked away, he gave Buck a gentle pat on the shoulder as he passed him by. “Just remember what I said, okay?”

‘Yeah.. sure..” Buck watched him go and waited a few moments before slipping out of the alleyway. He took the bus back home, avoiding all eye contact with people passing by and he managed to get back home without any issues. He quickly snuck up the stairs before anyone in the house was aware of him being gone and closed his bedroom door behind him as quietly as he could.

Once Buck was safely in his room, he unzipped the backpack and pulled out a tightly wrapped package covered in plastic and tape. He was already salivating as he peeled away the layers, revealing the fresh meat within. It looked like a thick hunk of tenderloin professionally cut into several thick slices, the bone still intact. There was a nice pool of blood gathered at the bottom of the wrapping and Buck dipped his fingers into it, licking them clean with a content hum.

It had been far too long since he had a good meal and it showed in the way he pressed his face into the plastic wrap, licking up mouthfuls in his hungry fervor. He loudly slurped up the last of the blood and pulled back after he was finished, nose to chin soaked in red. His stomach was still grumbling but for the most part, it had calmed at the taste of blood.

Buck sat in his chair and wheeled himself over to his desk. Once he was comfortable and had a random movie in, he leaned back and rested his feet on the desk. As it played in the background, he laughed and made off hand references that only he would get. He watched the actors on the screen run around and make fools of themselves as he ate. He sat the plastic wrapped package on his lap.

Buck spent the rest of the evening watching bad movies and eating slices of raw meat. Once done, he had a leftover pile of bones inside that he wrapped back up and tossed into a garbage bag. He flopped backwards onto his bed after he was finished and stared up at his ceiling, thoughts racing in his head.

He'd have to dispose of the leftovers and eventually, according to Benji, he’ll have to find another way of getting his meals. He didn't want to hurt anyone but who else would put up with his appetite? If he tried to tell his mother, she's have him committed to a institute without a second's hesitation. He was lucky enough to have had Strippin supporting him for as long as he had.

Buck drummed his fingers over his stomach as he drifted off. He’ll figure out something in the morning.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buck is always hard to write but let's hope I can do that pure bean justice.
> 
> So I've made an offhand reference to Strippin. I asked around and found that some people wanted him in the story but I like making things difficult for myself so he won't show up right away.
> 
> Trust me. If you look st my conspiracy wall, it makes sense!!


	4. Blood like Copper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He burns as bright as the name is he known for.

Tomato stomped through the front door to his apartment and kicked the door behind him with a huff. He still had a one handed grip at his nose, holding the tissue up to keep the blood from ending up all over everything. The broken nose and sore ribs did little to cease his bitching as he found his liquor cabinet and grabbed two bottles by the neck.

“Fucker.. Still can’t believe he broke my fucking nose.” He didn’t even bother getting a glass, instead choosing to take a swing directly out of the bottle. The pained expression on his face showed just how much of a bad idea it was and he coughed a few times as he flopped backwards onto his couch. “Fucker..”

He pressed a finger to the purpling around his nose and hissed in agitation. “Of course it was the one time I decide to go hunting at the Maverick that I get fucked up.” Tomato took another swig of his whisky, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“....and Bed of all people.” Tomato got a distant look on his face, recalling the way the man felt against him. He remembered his hands and the way they soothed over his body, the warmth of his breath and the kiss that almost devoured him whole. He ran two fingers over his lips in recollection. He had no idea it was the mystery man himself until Lawlman mentioned it.

How had he gone so long without meeting that gorgeous man before? Before his mind trailed on deeper into that spiralling though, Tomato shook his head and sat up in his seat. It wouldn’t help him now to think of the ‘how's and ‘why’s of the situation.

The only thing he could be happy about gaining from the situation was that he now knew what Bed looked like and that the man isn’t an enemy to Sideshow. As mysterious as he is, the man has served good intel to him and the rest of the group for years and all he asked for in return was his identity not being looking into.

“Tch, no point in thinking about him now.” Tomato stood up, taking his bottle with him over to his computer setup. He sat down in his chair and did a full spin as the pc powered up in front of him. He grinned through the swollen cheek and broken nose as a thought suddenly came to mind. “Besides.. I get the feeling, we’ll see each other again soon.”

The pc powered on with a happy chime and he turned back to face it with one last swig from his bottle. Tomato logged on and began his checklist, going over data send to him from the other members of Sideshow and glossed over a email from Zyke riddled with questionable links and eyebrow raising additions to future plans.

“That adrenaline junkie is going to get himself killed one day.” He huffed a breath of air that made his bangs shift and forwarded the email to Criken with a variety of expletives added to the top. “Hopefully Criken can settle him down before that happens.”

After going through a few more interesting tidbits of information, Tomato decided to wind down the stressful day he had by hopping from camera to camera. You didn’t have to be an expert to find unprotected camera all over the city to slip into. From old security ones to government controlled traffic cams, anyone can gain access to a wealth of information if they were just patient enough.

He scrolled through the list he had accumulated over the years of poking holes in security systems and clicked one at random. The feed for the Showroom dancefloor popped up on the main screen and Tomato was blown away for a second at the flashing lights, forgetting that he had access to a wide variety of the Sideshow’s properties by surveillance. He wasn’t expecting the first camera he hopped into would be the one overseeing all the dancing people within the dark club.

“I hate people..” He mumbled, eying a drunk guy get dragged out the front door after heckling the bartender. After that sad display, he flicked to a different camera and leaned back in his chair.

The next image that came up was of the inside of a warehouse with plastic covering every single surface, including the floor and ceiling. In the middle of the room was a man dressed to the nine in medical coverings and laid before him was a dead body. The man standing over the figure had a horrific looking bonesaw in hand and was just bringing it down when he paused the motion. It was if he realized he had eyes on him and turned his head to eyeball the security camera looking down on him.

Tomato gave a little wave despite knowing the other couldn’t see it and almost laughed as Charborg waved to him with bloodied gloves. After a moment of mutual waving, the doctor turned back to what he was doing, dismembering the body laid out in his ‘workshop’. It would have been unnerving how easily he cut the body into small transportable bits had he been anyone else but being who he was, Tomato found the whole thing to be quite entertaining.

His stomach growled at the sight of flesh being sliced and torn the shreds, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since he went out hunting tonight. He picked up his phone and scrolled to Charborg’s number before changing his mind and putting it back onto the table again. To think, he was two seconds away from asking the doctor to uber some food his way. He almost found the idea laughable.

“Damn..” He took a sip of his whisky and frowned, flicking the camera feed to another channel as he got up to grab some food from his freezer. He deposited the bottle on the counter before digging around for something to eat. Hanging from individual bags in the freezer were bits of organs and slices of muscle of all types. The bags were numbered and dated, helping him pick out which one he wanted. “Sirloin and pasta it is, I guess.”

Tomato tossed the bag onto the counter and sought out a pot to put the noodles on. He whistled as he worked, deciding on farfalle pasta and heated up a pan to fry the slices of human sirloin in it. As he was cooking, he received a call from a number he didn’t recognize.

He was almost hesitant to pick it up but he shook away the tension in his shoulders as he lifted it to his ear. Nothing ventured, nothing gain. “Hello?”

A familiar voice sounded on the other side. “Hey, it’s me.”

Tomato almost dropped the wooden spoon he was stirring with in surprise. He wasn’t expecting the mystery man himself to get a hold of him… and so soon too. “Tann- er, Bed.”

“Yeah, listen.. I got your number off of Lawlman and I just had to ask..” He could hear the hesitation in his tone. “Are you busy this saturday?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of notes to get out of the way. This is first of the major updates to the story, there are some addition chapters and I filled out some of the older ones to make them seem more fleshed out. So first we have, the man, the legend, Tomato gaming himself.


	5. Broken windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When faced with extinction every alternative is preferable."

***

“You know, you didn’t have to come along.”

Zyke looked over at Shayne and shook his head at his statement, taking his eyes off the road for only a second. “True. But I had nothing going on tonight and I figured, you could use the company.”

In return, Shayne graced the hitman with a cheeky grin and elbowed him playfully. “D’aww, you decided to spend your day off with me. I’m almost touched.”

“It’s.. just been awhile since we got to spend time together.” Zyke admitted, not meeting Shayne’s eyes this time. He looked almost nervous admitting it outloud. “I know that’s mostly my fault since my jobs sometimes take me out of time but I guess what I’m trying to say is, I miss you.”

Shayne sat there for the longest time, his expression shifting from incredulous to bashful. His cheeks took on a lovely shade of red and he glanced away to look out the passenger side window. He watched the people go by with a fixed shy look and felt his hands clench and unclench in nervous energy. “Yeah, me too.” He whispered against the cold glass, his breath fogging it up as he spoke.

Zyke lowered a hand from the steering wheel and gently placed it in Shayne’s. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt the hand squeeze back and he smiled to himself.

They had been doing the whole “dating” thing on and off for the past few months. Sometimes it was hard since both were constantly busy with their work so they didn’t have the free time to do cute couple stuff like movie nights and dates. Usually they ended up hooking up at the Showroom or in the back of his car at a moments notice. But most recently, Zyke has had more time to spend around the city so he wanted to spoil his ‘maybe boyfriend’.

“Hey..”

Shayne looked over at that. He saw the open expression on Zyke’s face and let out a little happy noise, his cheeks and ears tinged pink. As much as he wanted to blame the warm feeling in his stomach on the weed, he couldn’t. He knew that the feelings he had towards Zyke burned brighter than any fire he set. “Yeah?”

“After we’re finished at the Showroom tonight. Do you want to go out for dinner?” Zyke asked, giving the hand in his another reassuring squeeze. He received one in return. “Maybe that steak place that you always wanted to try?”

Shayne was giggly at this point and tilted his head to the side, leaning on Zyke’s shoulder. He intertwined their fingers. “You know, I’d actually like that. Just you and me, a full moon, a candle light dinner…”

“Some edibles.” Zyke finished, popping open the glove department and pulled out a plastic wrapped batch of brownies. He smirked as Shayne already took the package from him and had it open. Once he took a big bite, he offered it back to Zyke with an extended arm and cheeky grin. The hitman grinned and without taking his eyes off the road, took a bite as well.

They passed the snack back and forth as they drove up to one of Shayne’s distribution locations. It was the only one that hadn’t checked in at all the past week so Shayne had to go down there personally and bust some heads if it became necessary. Strippin was behind bars but that didn't mean any of the other faucets of the Sideshow could just slack off. Shayne had a business to keep and deliveries to make.

“You think they are just fucking around and didn’t get the memo that it’s friday or what?” Zyke pulled the car into the driveway and put it into brake but left the keys in the ignition. Years of service had taught him to always have a quick way to get out.. even if that exit ended up being a window.

Shayne shrugged with a cheesy smile. “Dunno, but whatever the excuse is, it better be a good one cause if not, we’ll have to give them the business.”

“Just in case..” Zyke reached behind the driver seat and retrieved a rifle. He made sure it was loaded and the safety was on before flipping it in his hand. He caught it by the barrel and offered the handle to shayne.

“I’m more of a deagle man myself, you know that.” Shayne retrieved one of his guns from his holster as he exited the car. He closed the door with his hip and started to walk to the front door. He heard the drivers door open and close behind him followed by footsteps behind him. There was a subtle click of a magazine being popped into a heavy rifle and Zyke was at his side with a nod. Once they were at the front door, Shayne adjusted his tie and knocked on the door.

There was heavy footsteps and a thick southern accent could be heard callingout to him. “Who is it?”

“You know who it is. Why don’t you open up so we can discuss this face to face.” Shayne crossed his arms over his chest, hiding the gun under his crossed arms as he looked directly at the peephole with a frown. His dark eyes peeped over his sunglasses and he gave the man on the other side of the door a disappointed look.

“Sideshow eh? Heh, well I got bad news for you.” The man let out a deep bark of laughter and a hand slammed on the other side of the door like he heard the funniest joke. “We don’t run with the Sideshow boys anymore.”

Another voice sounded from deeper in the house. “Yeah, we found another who’s willing to pay double for our goods. We don’t need you stomping our grounds anymore. So you and your bitch need to get off our property before we fill you both full of lead.”

Shayne tilted his head and looked at Zyke who smirked and rose a brow back at him. “Hear that babe?” He had a sharp grin on his face as he drew his pistol. “Sounds like we’re gonna have to give them the business.”

The two rose up their weapons while the men in the house continued to laugh and before they had a chance to react to the sight of their guns, Shayne began to take pot shots through the wooden door with his two desert eagles. He heard broken glass and cries of panic within and glanced over to Zyke who had walked away from the front steps to start firing through the living room window with his assault rifle. The curtains recoiled with every bullet before they eventually were torn down exposing bodies and various chemist equipment set up where a couch and tv would usually be seen.

Shayne kept firing into the front door, unloading both guns into the house until he heard the sounds of bodies hitting the ground and nothing else. He popped both clips and reloaded them one at a time, humming a little tune as he did so.

Zyke on the other hand had switched magazines twice and continued to fire, breaking windows and putting enough holes into the living room till the back wall started to open up. The drywall chunked away with each bullet allowing him to see clearly into the house and hallway. He only stopped when Shayne rose a hand up in ‘hold’ gesture. The entire neighbour was quiet and made the shuffling noises easier to pick up. The sound was coming from the side of the house where he assumed the kitchen was and both men followed it with weapons drawn.

The loud rustling belonged to a tall injured man trying to shimmy his body out the kitchen window as quietly as he could and failing. He managed to get his legs out and fell to the grass below with a small cry of pain. He was cradling his bloodied side and turned to make a run for it but was instead met with a forearm slamming him against the side of the house and the barrel of a gun held by a irate Shayne.

“So tell me.. What was going to be your next plan? What did you idiots expect was going to happen once you left Sideshow? Did you really think we were just going to let you run off with your tails tucked between your legs? Did you?! Did you even think?!” Shayne licked his lips after that angry speal and got a dangerous glimmer in his eyes, leaning in closer. “Can't answer that? Well, lemme ask you this then pal. Who’s the bitch now?”

Shayne didn’t give the man time to beg or fight back as he removed his forearm from the man's throat. He lifted his weight off him and took a step back, putting a bullet between his eyes without another word. Turning to Zyke, he chewed his lower lip and let out a long exhale. The dark look in his eyes had been replaced almost immediate once he saw how Zyke was looking at him. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I think I’m going to have to postpone dinner. This is going to be a messy clean up and I need to know who they decided to-” He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “I’ll make it up to you..”

Shayne was caught off guard by the pair of lips on his but only for a moment before he was grabbing at the lapels of Zyke's jacket and kissing him back. They pulled back after a second and he looked up to see fire in Zyke’s eyes. The same fire that he had for him.

“First off, you have no idea how good you look right now and if we weren't in a race against the clock I'd take you against this house right here, right now.” Zyke gave a moment to take a shuddering breath before kissing him one last time. This time, gently and chaste. “All that aside though, don't sweat the small stuff. You and me, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

Shayne took another breath and nodded slowly. He was still upset that their evening had yet again been ruined but was more calm then he was moments ago. Just when they were finally going to spend time together, something had come along to get in the way.. again. “Yeah, of course.”

“C’mon, let's see what we can find out about our new ‘competition’ on the street before the cops show up and ruin our fun.” Zyke offered with a small smile and a hand that was taken with a gentle squeeze. “I’ll even let you strike the match once we’re done, eh?”

The two men made their way back into the house hand in hand, uncaring of the sirens in the distance. The two of them were professionals. They worked well as a team and would undoubtedly be long gone before the cops arrived anyways.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very soon...
> 
> We will be getting into the meat and potatoes of the story soon. I promise..
> 
> But first, lemme hit you with that good, pure ship.


	6. Tip your waiter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "it's just a front. I'm telling you, the things that happen in the walls of the club are not legal! I swear!"

***

The bouncer glanced away from the lineup in front of him as a gorgeous black mercedes pulled up to the front and parked.

A man in a sleek suit stepped out and adjusted his red tie. His entire outfit was one of prestige and influence from the dark leather shoes to the bunny mask shaped tie clip and dark rimmed glasses framing intelligent eyes. He looked up at the sound of his name and passed by the lineup at the front door. One or two people made disgruntled noises that he got to cut to the front but most in the line were used to crowd who came and went as the minutes turned into hours.

“Hey Lawlman, it's been a while.” The bouncer offered his hand in a shake, which Lawlman took immediately. It was a shake of mutual expect and the last grumbles in the line up settled down as they realized it wasn't just anyone at the front but an affiliate to the club itself. “How have you been?”

“I've been keeping busy. How about you? How is the girlfriend?” Lawlman had a content smile on his face and moved with the fluidity of a man who was more than comfortable with his place in the world. Like a predator among gazelles.

The two men walked away from the velvet rope and started heading to the entrance. “Ah, it’s… it’s.. you know-” The bouncer ran his fingers through his hair and glanced away, giving a sheepish chuckle. He held up one hand in a helpless gesture.

“Complicated?” Lawlman supplied offhandedly.

“Yeah, it’s hard right now. But we’re working though it. Hey, uh, thanks for the vip tickets by the way. We had a great time.”

Lawlman gave the other a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Not a problem. Like I said, I just so happened to have them on hand and I heard you mention she loved Pink Floyd.”

The bouncer smiled shy at that and had a distant look in his eyes as nostalgia hit him. “We both do. Honestly man, we had our first dance to ‘Another brick in the wall’ back in high school.”

“No joke. Highschool sweethearts?” Lawlman asked with a crook of his brow. He received a happy laugh in response.

“Yeah man, 12 years now.”

Lawlman passed by the man and pat him on the shoulder as he did so, a whistle falling from his lips. “Man, you need to wife her up. Not everyday you find someone willing to commit to something for that long.” He threw a two finger salute over his shoulder as he walked into the club, only pausing to take in the contemplative expression on the bouncers face as he passed.

“...Huh.. right, yeah. Have a good night Lawlman.”

He pushed the frosted glass door open and stepped into the threshold, his body already humming at the sound of the bass as it hit him fully. The music was rolling out in a repetitive tempo, akin to that of a thrumming heartbeat. It wasn't loud so much as it was everywhere. The sound reverberated off the dark ceiling and walls of the front room that was mostly empty aside from the small sitting area and bulletin board.

Lawlman passed by a woman in a dark blue cocktail dress stapling a flyer for their annual karaoke night on the board. He reached forward to tap her on the shoulder but she was already in the motion of turning and startled immediately, raising the stapler up like she was about to hit him with it. “Fuck! Lawlman, for fucks sake. One of these days, I'm going to deck you with something for sneaking up on me.”

“Sorry about that Bree, didn't mean to catch you off guard. Was just popping in and wanted to say hi so-” He trailed off and finished his thought with a cocky wave. “Hi.”

The brunette ran a hand across her forehead as if trying to smooth a crease in her brow and let out a long sigh. “It's always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for I suppose.” She picked up a pile of flyers off the nearby table and tucked them under an arm, offering the other out for him to take. “Walk me in?”

“With pleasure.” Lawlman took her up on that offer with zest and the two made their way further into the already thriving club. It wasn't even five but the place was already full of the usual crowd.

“So, rope bunny, how has business been? Keeping you busy?” He asked politely, despite already knowing the answer.

Bree sighed and leaned closer to him so she could speak without having to raise her voice. “I really need a new nickname..”

He smirked but didn't say anything, the rest of Sideshow had already voiced their opinion on it so she didn't need another telling her how suggestive it sounded. Not that it wasn't fitting. Bree was currently running the biggest red light district in the city with Ruby and the mysterious Kiwo.

“Work has been… stressful.” Bree trailed off as if not sure how to continue on the topic in public. She glanced over to the formless mass of dancing people before looking back at Lawlman. “There's been some issues but what job doesn't have its ups and downs?”

Lawlman nodded and kept pace through the club, knowing that if he wanted to hear more then they'll have to be in a more private location. The Darkroom will have to do.

The heavy throb of the music filled the dark club with its ambiance and deafened the two of them as they moved along the outside of the dancing crowd. Several lines of neon lights traced the parameters of the walls and floors and pulsated with different colours as the music changed beat. It was a cool effect against the dark walls and black marble floors The entire club was basically one big room with glass surfaces and clear chairs and tables that refracted the light every which way.

A few of the Showroom’s hired security gave them nods of acknowledgment but said nothing, already returning to their duties and patrols. For just being hired bouncers, they were pretty thorough with their jobs. Lawlman could only guess that Shayne was right about adding more benefits for their employees. People were more inclined to work hard when they were treated like actual people.

The middle of the club was lit up only from the floor tiles and while it was a gorgeous looking effect, it also made things look eerie. Especially with everyone pressed so close together. Their shadowy figures danced, arms to the sky and bodies moving against each other. They looked almost like a wave in the ocean, the way they danced in sync to the beat.

A man who had been dancing, turned to face Bree and his eyes lit up like he had seen the most beautiful thing in the world. Before he could get close, he was intercepted by two bouncer who indicated with stern looks and crossed arms that he wasn't welcome to approach her. Lawlman looked over at Bree who was still gazing determined at their destination but the grip on his arm proved that she had seen what had transpired.

“Thank goodness for the D boys..” Lawlman heard her mutter against his shoulder and he grinned at that. It had been awhile since he had heard their security referred to as that. It was almost nostalgic.

Lawlman led the two of them to the only place that seemed lit up by its own set up. The bar had theatre lights over head that shone at an angle down into the bottles behind the bartender. She was dressed in black and white with the bunny mask tie clip indicating her successful initiation into Sideshow. They had to expand their numbers to lessen the stress on the main members backs so people at the Showroom were gradually brought into the group to provide that sense of security. It came with a wage hike and added benefits, again, one of Shayne's well thought out plans.

Currently she was pouring a few shots out and stacking them on a tray for pick up when her eyes caught the movement of Lawlman’s suit as he approached and looked up. He gave the bartender a small nod and smiled. He would usually stay behind and chat a bit before heading into the Darkroom but this time, he was in a bit of a hurry. Luckily she always seemed to know what he was thinking and gave him a nod in return, one hand falling behind the bar, hidden from view.

Once he was sure she aware of him, him and Bree made their way to the back wall of the club and approached a black door that almost matched the dark intricate wall panelling. The only thing that gave away the fact there was a door there was the golden handle shaped like victorian style vines. Lawlman waited in front for a moment till he heard a resounding click that signified that the electrical lock was open.

“After you, my lady.” He opened the door and held it open with an over the top flourish as he felt Bree leave his arm. She gave him a smile that mostly hid the tiredness in her eyes and she passed through the threshold with a little skip.

Lawlman turned and gave the bartender one last look before entering the room himself. He made sure it closed and locked again behind him once he was inside. The room he went into wasn't really a room so much as it was a stairwell that went down a few steps and turned a corner. Every step was lit up at the edges with a line of led’s that slowly thrummed into different shades.

He turned to face Bree just in time to see her remove the large clip holding her hair up in a high bun. She let out a content sigh and ran her fingers through the dark strands, massaging her scalp for a moment. “Ah, finally. Feels good to finally let it down.”

“I suppose you weren't kidding when you said today was stressful.” Lawlman grabbed the railing and took the stairs down, the hall continuing to spiral downwards till he could barely hear the thrumming of the music above.

Bree nodded and attached the clip to the strap of her dress, the bold shape of a golden bunny mask standing a stark contrast on the blue material. “ Supply runs are drying out, information leaks that had to nipped in the bud and Kiwo has gone awol again. Don't even get me started on Outlander...”

“Kiwo gone ghost again, eh? Isn't that the usual with her though. She does keep interesting company from what I've heard.” He could see a light at the bottom, the further down the steps they got and eventually stopped in a doorway that opened into a room only slightly smaller than the club overhead. Before leaving the stairwell, he was pulled back with an incessant tug at his sleeve. Lawlman looked back at Bree.

“Yes, but this time is different. She disappeared this time without so much as a word or warning. That's not like her. I'm worried that something might have happened to her.” The stairwell was slightly lit up from the other room they were standing at the threshold of and the light played against her features, bringing out all the tired lines she tried so hard to hide with makeup.

Bree looked more vulnerable with her hair down and Lawlman felt his heart hurt at the sight. He hated seeing his friends so frazzled and close to the brink. They had all chosen this life but that didn't mean at times, the stress of that life didn't catch up to them. Lawlman opened his arms and pulled her into a hug. “Hey, hey.. listen.. You not alone in this, okay? We’re family. Family takes care of each other, no matter what.”

“I know.. I know.. It just- sometimes it feels like… It’s hard to be so far away from you all..” He felt her body go tense for a moment before she melted into his embrace. Her smaller form trembled and her shoulders shook with quiet sobs that died away always as quickly as they surfaced. “I know.. I know..”

“I'll always be here. We all will.”

Once they pulled away, Bree looked at Lawlman with a tired sigh and let out a embarrassed hiccup. Her hands rose to her face to try and clean up her eyeliner as best as she could on such short notice. “God, look at me. I'm such a mess.”

“Your a mess? You should have seen me last month when Criken asked me to teach him to cook.” Lawlman tried for a lighthearted approach and was content to see the pained look on Bree’s face replaced with one of glee. “Better?”

She nodded. “Better.”

They took a moment to compose themselves before stepping confidently into the darkroom.

**

The Darkroom was lovingly referred to as such because like a photographers darkroom, this location was used to plan and carry out various tasks that required discrecion on their part. It had the same motif as the club with dark walls and furniture, the small amount of colour in the room was dotted around in the the form of led lights that lined the floors and trailed up to the ceiling between the black tiled walls. There were a plethora of black felt couches and chairs that surrounded a square inlet that went in two steps and had a long silver pole that rose up to the ceiling. Zyke had it installed for ‘entertainment’ purposes.

To the side of the room was a rounded inlet with seats built into the walls. There were piles of plush pillows thrown all over the place in some abstract attempt at looking fancy. In the middle of that area was a large billiard table. There were two men playing pool and chattering back and forth as they took their shots.

“Your not gonna sink it. Not gonna sink it…” The first man taunted with a playful tone.

The other man gave a shit eating grin and rested his hips to the pool table. Hooking the cue behind his back, he aimed the shot backwards. “Oh yeah? Watch me mother fucker.”

The felt on the table was black and struck a great contrast to glowing balls on top. They were clear like blown glass with bright colours that represented each of the planets and moons and they glowed like neon as they clinked against each other and rolled across the table. True to what the shooter claimed, he hit his mark perfectly and sank Venus in one of the side pockets.

“Fuck… “ The first man wearing dark leather groaned. He swung his cue like a baseball bat a few times. “I guess I owe you ten bucks..”

Lawlman felt a huff of laughter bubble at the sight. “I am baffled… I figured you would have learned by now. Zyke takes every bet as a challenge.”

Bree’s heels clicked on the obsidian tiles as she practically skipped over to Shayne. She burst out laughing, loud and happy as Shayne made a beeline for her as well. They quickly embraced and he lifted her an inch off the floor and slowly spun them together. “Shayne, put me down~”

Shayne lowered her back onto her feet and rested his hand on her shoulders. His expression was warm as he took in thee state of Bree. “Sorry, it’s just been too long. It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

After placing his cue onto the table, Zyke sat up from his position leaned against the table and turned to face Lawlman. He extended one hand in front of him in a ‘gimme’ gesture, fingers and thumb rubbing together. “Well, well… Hey strangers, it's been a long time.”

“Too long honestly.” Shayne agreed, smiling despite himself as he forked over several bills from his wallet. He slapped them into Zyke’s open hand and gave Bree one last playful nudge before he walked over to take a seat on one of the plush loveseats. “Where the hell have you been? Honestly, you two can't be that busy with Strippin now serving time.”

Lawlman let out an exasperated sound and rolled his head, one hand already moving up to massage his shoulder at the exaggerated motion. “Geez, it’s almost like I'm an individual that's affiliated with multiple people. I don't just work for him, you know.”

“And it’s almost like Strippin doesn’t affect my business in the red district.”

“True. But how are you staying in business without his imports? Bullets cost money, man.” Shayne asked Lawlman and then glanced over at Bree with a drum of his fingers on the couch. He rested the pool cue across his lap and was watching the two of them with all the interest of someone who was not in a sound state of mind. “Honestly everything costs money.. Bullets, bodies.. and you know..”

“Drugs?” Bree inquired with a knowing quirk of her brow as she came to sit next to him.

Shayne leaned back in his seat and let his body sink into the couch, legs sliding forward till he was slouched comfortable. “Mmm.. mayhaps..” He looked up at Zyke with glossy eyes, a dopey grin crossing his lips.

Zyke had lifted his cue again and returned to shooting pool as they spoke and only paused a moment to glance over at Shayne. He clicked his tongue in mock irritation. “At least Shayne doesn't have to worry about work. Even when he’s sampling his own supply half the time. Meanwhile, you and I pretty much have to rely on others to give us the means to our methods.”

Lawlman shrugged at that and stepped over to couch opposite side of pool table. “You know Strippin isn't the only supplier out there.” He watched in bored curiosity as Shayne slowly slid his way down in his seat till he was sitting on the ground.

“He's the only one that doesn’t make outrageous claims or try to capitalize and market your skills like they own you. Fuck-” Zyke scoffed, the cue making a bad noise as he barely clipped the ball that looked like Jupiter. It had a big 5 printed on the outside and bounced back and forth inside the billiard table but didn't go into any of the pockets. “Shayne, your turn.”

The leather clad man let out a content noise and slowly gathered himself up to his feet. Once standing, he swayed happily over to the table and eyed the remaining planets. “Oh goodie, you didn't sink Neptune.”

Zyke laughed at that, passing the pool cue back and forth between his hands. “That's the eight ball.”

“Rock on, you funky little ball of gas.” Shayne giggled and leaned over the table, wiggling his hips in order to get comfortable. He squinted and took aim at Pluto sitting there on the table, looking far too innocent.

Lawlman crossed one leg over the other and stroked his chin, looking ever so interested in the show before him. He found the whole thing funny. Especially at Zyke, who met his eyes and was now currently trying to play off the fact that he hadn't been caught staring at Shayne’s ass.

Bree on the other hand gave Zyke a wink at his obvious response but said nothing about it. Instead, she sat their unclasping her heeled shoes and rotating her ankles. Bree set them on the floor and laid her body across the couch, getting nice and comfortable.

“Fuck- Well, I moved it, not by much but still.” Shayne grumbled, his cheery disposition sullied at his poor shot. He scratched the back of his head and stood up straight again. “I have to concede defeat man. I am NOT in the right state to be taking better shots.”

“Eh, fair enough. Besides, Lawlman is here for once so we might as well talk business.” Zyke stored his cue back on the wall rack as he spoke. He looked over at Bree and gave her an apologetic look. “And Bree but.. This really isn’t your sort of tea.”

Bree rose a brow at him. “You say that like I’m afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just, you haven’t really been around. It might be too much, getting you involved with something like this.”

“Involved with what?” Bree sat up and looked as though she were about to get up and argue further but a look from Lawlman had her taking a deep breath to calm herself. “You know Zyke, once upon a time I was a hard hitter like you. So don’t pretend I’m not ready to get my hands dirty.”

Zyke rose his hands up in submission. “I’m not-”

Lawlman uncrossed his legs and shot up, ready to step in. He put himself between the two currently staring each other down and let out a heavy forced laugh. “Hah hah.. Alright guys. Let’s focus on the task at hand. Business, right?” He turned to look at Shayne and gave him a desperate look, hoping to change the topic. “Business.. Like last week when you two set that dealer’s house on fire? Cause if you guys are planning something, I have no doubt that it’s absolutely terrible and we are gonna want EVERYTHING to do with this.” He turned to rest a hand on Bree’s shoulder.

Shayne looked up from collecting all the pool balls and gave a cheeky grin as the tense situation went right over his head. “Hah, got tired of carting around bodies for Charborg?”

“Charborg and… someone else.. Look, don't remind me. Last time was a fucking mess.” Lawlman was starting to question why him and Bree came down to the Showroom, if it meant the others were going to judge them for their choice of jobs.

Criken was the only one out of the bunch who really seemed to understand the merit of someone remaining a medium between all the factions of their network and someone being off site to run their red light district. But that man tended to stick to his own part of the city now since the fbi began snooping around his business, he wasn’t around to back them up. And after what happened to Strippin, he could see why.

“So what is this plan of yours? Gonna airdrop donuts on the police chief’s home again?” Lawlman walked over to a chair and took a seat.

Shayne got a distant look in his eyes and grinned in happy recollection. He bustled as soon as Zyke smacked him on the arm and shook his head sadly.

“No, we’re not.” Zyke raised a finger before Shayne could argue against him. “And before you say ‘that's a good idea’ remember that your banned from flying.”

Bree nodded her head at that, a hand raising up to hide his snicker. She could recall the chain of events Zyke so kindly brought up. She remembered the plane chase and the enviable loss of firearms that the gunman suffered because Shayne dropped the crate into the ocean. No matter how many times he apologized, Zyke never did let it go.

“Alright, so explain away. What could you two possibly be cooking up that requires our help?” Bree piped in, leaving no room for arguments. She was going to be apart of this.

Zyke gave her a long look. He stepped away from Shayne after a playful clip to the back of his head. “Were going to impose a little mayhem, teach the feds a little lesson for fucking with our business and-” He paused and let his grin turn sharp. The dark flicker in his eyes reminding everyone that while this man was a close friend, he was first and foremost a deadly hitman.

“-we’re going to break Strippin out.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to fill the world. I require names for the various 'npcs' in my story. Like the bouncer, the bartender and various others in the future... who knows, you might even get to name some big baddies.. maybe Outlander? :)
> 
> Leave a comment and I'll be sure to make alterations in the future.


	7. Hands that feed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help comes at the strangest of times and moreso, they tend to come from the strangest of people.

***

There was a knock on his door, which usually wasn’t a surprise seeing the type of business Dave was part of but most visits to his humble abode were usually preceded by a phone call warning him ahead of time.

He glanced up from the variety of sharp utensils laid out on his table and contemplated covering them but the knock at the door became incessant and left no room for any other action. He didn’t want his neighbours calling the cops yet again for causing a disruption.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Hold on.” Dave unlocked the door and barely got it open before a man slammed his hand on the wood and pushed in, carrying another limp man over his shoulder. “Whoa whoa… Hold on a second! What’s this?”

The man lowered his injured friend onto a nearby wooden chair and turned to face Dave with a wild, desperate look in his eyes. There was dried blood splattered across his face. “Look man, I hear through the grapevine that your damn good at what you do. I need you to help my friend here. As you can see here he got fucked up pretty badly.”

Dave gave the man a once over, sizing up the tall suited figure before him and bit the inside of his cheek at the realization that the man who ran security for his illicit business had left a few minutes earlier and now he was alone with two men he didn’t recognize.

“How did you find this place? I’m not exactly advertising my business.”

His question was met with a wad of cash dropped on the dinner room table next to the various scalpels. “This should be enough to cover the cost. Now fix him.”

It was apparent the man intended on making this as difficult as possible for him. And now that he had no one else in the home with him, he either had to follow through with fixing the man or risk pissing off two men who were much taller than him. He wasn’t a physical fighter.

Dave huffed and ran a hand over his cheek, trying to wipe away the irate expression as fast as he could. He quickly replaced it with a small smile and indicated to the back room with a wave of his hand. “In here, my office is at the back. Please don’t get blood on my-”

The first man picked up his bloodied friend that he had leaned against the wall and a red smear was left behind. He didn’t even acknowledge the mess his friend had made and was pushing past Dave to get to the back room. Dave felt his brow twitch a tick at the sight but said nothing, biting his tongue to keep the anguished yell he wanted to release into the air. and carried him over one shoulder, leading Dave as he went further into the home. There was a bloody handprint on the door that had Dave’s eye twitch again and his thoughts turned murderous before he buried that feeling down with a small hum. He wasn’t impressed by the wet trail of blood that both men left behind while he lead them further into his office space and was even less impressed with the arrogant kick to force the office door open.

Most of the people that came to him for help were often polite enough to call ahead, allowing him to take the precautions of covering chairs and tables ahead of time. Even the ones who showed up without warning were at least bandaged by the most basic of first aid. But these two were clearly under the impression that since they threw money his way, he needed to sit down, shut up and do his job. These men were not apart of Sideshow. No, his family had made it quite clear early on that he was meant to be respected. Right now, he felt less than garbage around these men.

Dave patted a hand on the sterile metal table and ignored the shifting expression both men gave each other. He was losing his patience and didn’t care that the two were squeamish about a metal operation table. How else did they expect him to work? In a luxury hotel with the finest bedding? “Put him down or i can’t fix him up.” Dave gritted his teeth as he spoke, already walking around that room to locate all the necessities for removing, cleaning and stitching a bullet wound. It took a few minutes of going through cupboards and shuffling through supplies but he found everything and turned back to face them once he was done to see that neither man had moved, much to his chagrin.

“Well, don’t just stand there. I can’t remove the bullet unless I get a good look at the wound.” He rose a pair of surgical scissors in front of his face and pointed at the bloodied mans suit. “Now do you want to remove it or should I?”

The first man looked at the reddened suit jacket and was starting to nod towards Dave when the injured one struggled out of his friends grip. He sat on the metal table and pointed a finger accusingly at the other two and sneered through bloodied teeth. “This is a fifteen thousand dollar Saint Laurent suit, like hell I’m going to let you cut it open. I’ll gut you if you even think about it.” The bloodied man tried to make a show of fixing the collar but the motion only seemed to agitate the wound more and a pained expression soured his threat.

Dave felt his brow twitch again but he managed to keep his smile as he looked at his friend. “Look, if he doesn’t take it off. It doesn’t matter how much money you throw my way, I can’t help him.”

“Just.. help him.” The first man huffed again, leaving no room for argument. His dark eyes narrowed and his arms crossed his chest.

“Hey, you.” Dave looked at the injured man and waited till he got his attention. The man was wobbling from blood loss but managed to meet his eye. “Do you know what wound exudate is?”

Dave felt his patient grinding ever so closer to the edge and he lowered his head to hide his expression while he stepped closer to him, his voice taking a low tone as he continued without missing a beat. “When your body has experienced tissue damage, it will attempt to purge any means of infection by draining the fluids out of the wound. Anything from blood to pus will come out of you and honestly, It’s rather gross when you think about it. But you know what’s even more gross?”

The man looked back at Dave, his eyes getting wider as he spoke and he shook his head, face getting more and more pale. “N-no?”

“Sepsis. It’s when whatever is in your body is forced to stay in your body and is now causing an infection within your bloodstream. It rots you from the inside out. I can go over a few examples, the main one right now sitting on my operation table with his very expensive jacket.” Dave frowned and held a finger up to his chin as he pretended to think. “How much was that again, twelve thousand?”

“Fifteen.. Thousand.”

Dave clicked his tongue and grabbed at the front of the man’s bloodied jacket, suddenly feeling braver than he was ten minutes ago. ‘A lot of sepsis happens when you cover a wound and don't let it drain properly. So tell me..” He leaned in and lowered his voice to a threatening whisper. “Is your life really only priced at fifteen thousand?”

The man almost teared up and shook his head. “No, please. I don’t want to die..”

“Then take off the jacket.” Dave showed mercy on the trembling man and helped him shrug off the overcoat. He folded it over his arm and looked down, eying the golden buttons on the front as he walked over to offer it to the other standing by the doorway. Each button had a familiar crest printed onto each one, a thistle flower with its spikes spread to the sky like a fan.

He recognized that symbol. Him and the rest of Sideshow had seen it many times before. It was the flower that all members of Outlander’s gang wore. These two were Outlander’s boys and they had walked into the heart of Sideshow’s territory to get medical help. Though he always considered himself an open agent, willing to tend to anyone's wounds if they had the cash for it, he did do a lot of work for the Sideshow boys. Whether they came to him knowing that he was affiliated or not, Dave had to play his cards right if he wanted to walk away alive. He didn’t exactly have backup on hand.

Something in his expression must have given him away because Dave felt dark eyes on his back as he turned to place the coat on the other table.

“Is there something the matter, doctor?” The man trailed off, voice carrying an accusing tone to it.

Dave ignored the man behind him in favour of tugging on blue rubber gloves. “Heh, I was just thinking that was money that could have been better spent elsewhere cause that suit is absolutely ruined.”

“I’ll get it dry cleaned.” The nearly unconscious man growled, still trying to undo the thistle flower cufflinks with blood soaked fingers.

“Nothing short of bleach will get those stains out of silk.” Dave shrugged, playing off his sudden nervousness as he clicked the long necked tweezers in his hand. His confidence dropped as his mind continued to go over the situation he was in. He was alone in a room with the enemy. “Take it from a professional. I know what blood can and can not be washed out of.”

The man continued to give Dave a suspicious look but said nothing as he continued to work on his friend. He was leaned back against the wall with crossed arms as the bullet was removed and didn’t move the whole time, even as his buddie cried and cursed as the stitches were put in, closing up the wound.

Dave cleaned the bullet off with a wet wipe and offered it to the shirtless man, who took with with a tired but gleeful expression. “Here, consider it a souvenir.” He’d never understood it but lots of people liked to keep the bullets that didn’t kill their target. He knew for a fact that Zyke had a bit of a collection of his own but his consisted of glass from all the windows he tended to jump out of.

“Nice.” The man held it up to the light with a mixed expression of awe and surprise. He tossed it to his friend who caught it and gave it a once over. He slipped off the table and wobbled once as his feet hit the ground but he looked more confident than he had when he came in. “Can’t wait to show the boys this. Not even a bullet from Comedy can put me down.”

Dave stripped the bloodied gloves off and hummed as he cleaned off his hands in the sink. He tried to ignore the obvious mention towards Lawlman and offered a wave to the men as they got up to leave.

“We’re done here?’

“Yep.” Dave nodded, drying off his hands with a small smile. “Just remember, no heavy lifting or strenuous activities for at least a week. You may be stitched up but your body needs time to heal it naturally.”

“Can I get a doctors note?” The man asked, elbowing his buddy with a laugh.

Dave laughed, putting the extra effort in to make it sound a bit more deranged than usual. “I highly doubt my note would mean squat seeing as how I lost my doctorate years ago.”

That statement had the man’s laughter cease immediately and the both of them looked back and forth nervous all of a sudden. The first man grabbed his buddies suit and tie and started to back up out the door.

“Right, I think we need to get going now. C’mon man.”

The injured man patted a hand over the stitched wound and looked up at dave with pale cheeks. His eyes went wide at the cheerful wave he received in turn. “Uh, yes. We’re going to get going. Later doc.”

“Are you sure? I can write that note right now if you wa- ok, bye.” Dave continued to ramble and wave at them till they were out the front door and he closed it behind them, pressing his back to it with a nervous jitter. His legs trembled and he slide down into a seated position, resting his head back onto the door.

His hands were shaking as he took out his phone and had to take a few breaths to compose himself before calling Criken. If anyone could help him in this situation, he could. Besides, Criken owed him a favour and what better time to call it then now. He wanted to, no he NEEDED to know how Outlander knew about his occupation and where he currently resided.

One way or another, he needed answers.

  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I finally got back on this story. I can't believe I put this off for so long. My apologies, I MAAAAY have been distracted by a certain binky boy doing a face reveal. Oh no, he's hot...


	8. Hands on a clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

Seven minutes. He counted it in his head. Knew it like the back of his hand. Like the very heartbeat within his chest, the time was ingrained in him. The watch never steered him wrong and while most would find a fault to his mechanic means of tracking his life, he revelled in it. Time was a constance in his life.

Criken glanced up from his watch and eyed the dark car parked not-so-subtlety outside his home. The federal agents were still keeping a close eye on him. Thankfully, it seems they were more intent on trying to catch others in their surveillance net than actually make an attempt at catching him doing anything illegal.

“They truly must think they have me. Hook, line and sinker.” Criken mused, walking into his kitchen to pour himself another glass of coffee. He still had six minutes left so he wasn't in any big hurry.

He set it down on the table and slide two pop tarts into the toaster, scratching at the dark hair on his head. While those cooked, he walked back into the living room where his laptop was, screen open and flooded with numbers. Various numbers began lit up on the screen as certain lines of code stood out in contrast to the thousands of others that were seemingly random. “That's… Hmm, not as creative as I thought it would be but, I suppose it makes sense judging by how big his stash really was.”

He heard the popping sound in the kitchen signalling that his food was done and took one final sip of his coffee as he eyed his watch. Four minutes.

Criken took a bite out of a pop tart while he tossed his laptop into his bag. Once it was secure, he slung it over one shoulder and glanced about the room. This had been his home for years. He was honestly going to miss it. Three minutes.

He walked towards the front door and took a deep breath, adjusting his glasses and dark hair while running over the checklist in his head. Now, at this crucial moment, was not the time to forget anything. Two minutes.

With one last mournful look around the place he had called home, Criken stepped out into the darkness with purpose and walked towards the parked car. One minute.

His strides were slow but measured as he crossed the empty street. It was too early for anyone to be awake right now and honestly, he felt bad for the upcoming performance. The people living in this neighbourhood kept to themselves but they were hard workers. They didn't deserve what he planned. The federal agents on the other hand...

He barely saw a head turn to look at him through the tinted window and gave them a friendly little wave. With a coy smile on his lips, he pointed at his watch and could almost hear the gears turn in the agents head. By the time they realized what was going on, it was too late.

Zero.

The vehicle in front of him combusted and the strength of the explosion had it fly upwards and flip a few times before coming down hard on the concrete in a creak of charred metal. It burned too hot and too fast for the two people inside to really do anything and their lack of suffering left Criken unsatisfied.

Skippy should have made the bomb smaller or mixed a recipe that would have burned them slowly. They deserved to hurt more after what they had put him through in the past few months, Criken shook his head to clear those thoughts. He couldn't waste time on ‘should have, could have’ right now. He had other matters to deal with, starting with a meeting at the Showroom.

He walked away from the burning wreck of the car and got two blocks away just as fire emergency vehicles could be heard in the distance. “I hope you boys are getting paid per fire.” He murmured to himself, typing something with lightning speed into his phone. He didn't need a moment to check the screen, already knowing the line of code by heart and sent it without a second thought.

Criken couldn't stick around to view his handy work but knew that by now his electronics back home were registering the command he just sent them and were now systematically wiping whatever was left over that he hadn't cleaned by hand. With a final tap on the screen, his computers started going through kill commands, detonating hundreds of delicately placed explosives that he had meticulously spent the better part of his forced imprisonment working on. With that having been done, he ducked into an alley and followed the path he had pre-planned for himself, stuffing the black wig into his satchel.

Parked in front of the mouth of the alley was a dark pickup truck with tinted windows and black rims. It was in the way of his path and Criken made a small noise in the back of his throat as he approached the vehicle. He stepped up to the drivers side and rapped the widow with his knuckles and smiled a friendly smile as the window rolled down.

“Hey stranger, you sure you're supposed to be parked here?”

“Shut the fuck up and get in the car.” Tomato grumbled, indicating with a thumb to the empty seat next to him, his eyes never leaving his phone as he spoke.

Criken just smiled in that mellow way and obediently got in the vehicle by the passenger side. He climbed up and into the large truck and perched himself on the spotless leather seat. There was plenty of legroom but he felt most comfortable sitting cross legged with his laptop out on his lap.

“No offence but you look like shit.” Criken smirked at Tomato’s words and shrugged, already running a diagnostic on his laptop. His fingers danced over his laptop, the sound of tapping being the background noise as they drove.

“I've had a couple of bad weeks. Feds kept my area under lock and key for far longer than I was content with.”

“That's funny coming from a shut in. You act like being trapped in your home is the worst thing that could have happ-” Tomato paused, eyeing his rearview mirror with a frown. His attitude shifted almost immediately at the sight behind him. “Fuck- I think we picked up a tail.”

Criken glanced back as well before shaking his head. “No, that's one of ours.”

“Oh, really? Well, that makes everything so much better.”

Criken braced himself for the outburst he was undoubtedly about to receive. He deserved it. He knows how much Tomato hates a last minute change to plans.

“When the FUCK were you going to tell me about that, eh? Before we got to the Showroom or after I started to shoot at our escort?” Tomato looked pissed off, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned stark white.

Criken closed his laptop and pulled it up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. “To be honest, it wasn't even my idea. Benji insisted upon it, told me that it was ‘better to be safe than sorry’ or some philosophical crap like that.”

“Someone needs to inform that idiot that we've been in this business long enough to know when an escort is and isn't warranted.” Tomato pulled off his shades and rubbed his forearm over his face before replacing his sunglasses. “It's almost like were god damn professionals or something.”

Criken just sighed at that and slouched lower in his seat. “Okay, Mr. Professional. Mind keeping your eyes on the road?”

“Fuck you.” Tomato ground out, reaching to flick on the radio.

He sighed again, drumming his fingers along the top of his laptop. It was going to be a long drive, he could already tell.

***

They pulled up to the front of the Showroom just as the sun was beginning to set behind the tall buildings. With it still being light outside, the front wasn't crowded with people trying to get in. Because of this, instead of pulling up to the front, Tomato turned down one street behind the club and pulled up into a different lot. The dry cleaners (another location owned and operated by their group) was small and looked almost insignificant in comparison to the club, with a simple flashing sign that indicated that they were still open.

Tomato parked the large truck and gave the other car a narrow look as it passed by them slowly. It slid into the parking lot and slowed to a crawl before turning and exiting out into the other street. “Unbelievable. See what I mean? Fucking unprofessional.”

He locked his truck and both of them walked up to the dry cleaners. Tomato held the door open for Criken as they walked in and used that simple maneuver to eyeball the parking lot. He didn't see anything suspicious behind them and with a gruff sound, stepped into the building.

Criken was already talking to the lady at the front who gave both men a nod and ushered them into the back. They stepped into a room filled with hanging clothes and crates of varying sizes. This location served as both a supply front and an emergency exit for the club if shit ever hit the fan.

“If we're in luck, Benj won't be there.” Tomato grumbled, already agitated from the unprofessionalism shown by their tail. “I don't think I have the patience to deal with his.. tendencies.”

Criken pat him on the back as he passed by him. “Relax, he won't cause any issues.” He gave the redhead a look and before he could argue, he interrupted with a stern whisper. His expression was flat but had a dangerous spark to them that left no room for complaints. “He won't cause any issues… I've made sure of that.”

Tomato just nodded at that and followed after him stiffly, his mouth suddenly feeling dry at the others words. He could only imagine what Benji had done to warrant such a necessity on Criken’s part. To be honest, he was starting to feel kind of bad.

Both men stepped into a storage room near the back of the cleaners and with a press to the wall, it swung inwards revealing a passage. Criken stepped past the drywall and down onto the stairs that went downwards into a brick hallway. He flicked a light switch on the side of the wall and a long series of ceiling lights lit up, just enough to see the floor and walls. They kept talking to a minimum as they walked, the only sound from them being their shoes on the dark brick.

The thrum of traffic could be heard from underground as they walked through the underground tunnel that led under the alleyway and into the club’s premises. About halfway along, the lights shifted into stronger LEDs that continually cycled through colours. The old bricks began to change as well, now covered by black wall panels that led up to a gorgeous wooden door. Inside, a faint beat could be heard indicating that they had arrived to the darkroom located under the club.

“After you.” Criken offered, a hand indicating toward the door. He tightened his grip on his satchel and stepped to the side to let Tomato go first.

The man let out a huff of air but passed by him obediently. One hand went up to adjust the gun hidden at his beltline as if to confirm he was still armed before he opened the door. A gentle bell dinged as the door opened to indicate to anyone in the darkroom that people were coming through the tunnel and both men stepped in, beholding the group of people sitting within.

“Tomato, Criken, good to see you both made it here alright.” Zyke called out, drink in hand raised in their direction. “Take a seat, we have much to discuss…”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally introduce Criken in the chapter and I hope I did the meticulous man justice.


	9. Part of the problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert clever and eye catching chapter summary below*
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

***

“Wow, the whole gang's here I see.” Shayne cheered from his seat, a shot glass balanced delicately between two fingers. His face was flushed already, indicating he had already had a few.

“Not exactly.” Lawlman looked up after taking his shot at the billiards table and nodded in Criken and Tomato’s direction. “Flimsii isn’t here but I guess we all know why. He can't exactly leave work on a whim.”

Tomato nodded in introduction to everyone but didn't stick around to listen to the conversation, instead choosing to move to the other side of the dark room. He had wordlessly made way to the gorgeous bar built into one of the walls.

The entire front was made of reinforced glass that was filled to the brim with water. Bubbles rose up from the bottom, refracting the black light lining the back of the tank. Within the bar shaped aquarium swam a variety of aquatic life, both tropical and rare.

Tomato stood there quietly, his features going soft as he cooed at a bright red betta fish that swam just beneath the glass. “Look at you, you've gotten so big.” Tomato was like a proud parent, watching gleefully as the betta followed after his fingers that skimmed the top of the bar.

Sput popped up from behind the glass with a handful of bottles. He watched the scene before him in amusement and while he was tempted to call out Tomato, he decided that he liked his body parts the way they were and just gave the red head a knowing look instead. “Hey, good looking. Can I get you drink?”

Tomato looked up flustered and coughed into his fist, his fingers no longer trailing along the top of the glass. “Fucking hell Sput. What are you, the bar gremlin? Why were you hiding back there?”

“Well, Ruby is still in the red light district so I'm on bar duty here tonight.” Sput sighed, laying to various bottles delicately on the glass counter. He was wearing the Showroom’s uniform that consisted of a white dress shirt and dark vest. Interestingly enough, there were hundred dollar bills stuck out from above the collar of his shirt, like they had been haphazardly shoved in.

Tomato pointed at the bills but said nothing about them at Sput’s amused smirk. “Well Mr. Bartender, mind doing your job and getting me a beer?” He glanced over his shoulder and inclined his head in Criken’s direction. “Actually make that two. I think we're going to need it.”

Lawlman came up behind the redhead and grabbed one of the bottles of Mount Gay that Sput had brought out and shoved two bills into Sput’s shirt. He threw a wink over his shoulder and walked back to the pool table.

Criken looked out among all those seated around the room. It looked like every faucet of Sideshow had been informed on the situation and had all gathered to show their support. Each section had some sort of representation in the Showroom, from the assassination corps to the information associates. Almost everyone was wearing their coloured tie.

Lawlman, the representative for the Fixers was the only one wearing a colour that didn’t match with his duties. Fixer’s wore black ones to make it easy to transition from work to off duty without having to change much. However, Lawlman was wearing red instead. The same colour of Strippin’s suppliers, the same shade that Benji was meant to be wearing.

Criken got a good look at everyone's colours as Lawlman leaned over the back of the couch while refilling Shayne’s glass. The drug cultivator was making small talk and laughing as though he didn't have a care in the world. His tie had a fancy paisley design on it but was a matching shade of purple to his vest and pants.

Sitting right next to him wearing the green colours of the Assassin’s Corp was Zyke who was also looking around the room taking a headcount. He never knotted his tie and instead wore it loose around his neck. He had matching suspenders over his top.

Benji was sitting on the arm of the chair next to Bree and looked out of place with his hoodie and red bandana tied around his leg. He never dressed up like the rest of Sideshow so he never wore a tie like one, instead settling for random patches of red on his outfit. Criken recalled him showing up to the last meeting in an obnoxious red hoodie that had many of the members turning their nose up in disdain. This time it looked like he settled for something more subtle to wear in the future.

Glancing about, Criken was taken back by the sight of Bree. He had heard from the grapevine that she was back in the area but hadn't heard directly from her so he wasn't sure if it was a rumour or not. She was seated near the bar, striking up a conversation with Tomato. She wasn't wearing a tie but her signature blue dress enough to show her significance as one of the maidens. Her, Ruby and Kiwo ran the bordellos in the red light district and wore blue to meetings.

Criken started heading in their direction, taking note of what Tomato was wearing. He had noticed in the car that he wasn't wearing his greys to represent himself as one of the information associates but didn't say anything at the time. He knew the man didn't like wearing ties so he wore a grey hoodie instead but even that was gone, instead replaced by a simple long sleeved v-neck shirt.

Before Criken got a few steps away from the couch, he was whistled at by Shayne who was waving his hand and trying to get his attention. He sighed and resigned himself to being pulled into a conversation. “I guess since we've all been called we're finally making a move on Strippin.” Criken went to take a seat next to Shayne but was intercepted in a hug by Zyke, the man having stood up when he saw him getting closer. He squirmed against the embrace for a second before hugging back with a stubborn pout.

Zyke gave him a gleeful look and blow some blonde hair out of his eyes. “Listen, the Feds have fucked with our business for far too long.” He murmured before loosened up the hug. Before Criken could slip away, he slung an arm over his shoulder to hold him close as he spoke up, louder this time. He pointed a finger at various people about the room, rotating his body to face each one in turn, Criken still in his grasp. “Seriously.. Profits have dropped considerable since they decided to crack down on our imports.”

“And with Strippin behind bars, his business has been left in Benji’s hands and that is… Less than ideal.” Shayne chimed in, taking a shot before looking at Benji sheepishly. He scratched the back of his head and laughed. “Sorry Benj.”

The aforementioned man just chuckled, scratching the bridge of his nose as spoke. He lifted the hood of his jacket up revealing his face to the rest of the group and gave a small, shy grin. “No, your right. I've barely been keeping shit together since he got nicked.”

“You know, you can always call in one of those favours I owe.” Lawlman offered, resting his weight on his pool cue. He had a coy smirk on his face like he knew more than he was letting on. Knowing Lawlman, he probably did.

“Yeah.. and have Strippin pissed at me for collecting on the favours that he’s owed? No thanks..”

Tomato walked back from the bar with Bree at his side, laughing at something he said. He had two beers in hand and handed one over to Criken, who had finally slipped out of the overly affectionate snipers grip. “Where is Dave by the way? If we're going to do this, we need all hands on deck.”

“And Charborg?” Bree asked, making a show of looking around the room for the man. She gave up after a moment and gave Criken a look, knowing that if anyone would know, he would. “Is he still at the Lynch?”

Criken took a long sip of his drink before giving Benji a glance. He said nothing for the longest time, instead letting the room fill up with conversation from other people again. She pouted back at him and laughed.

“Dave’s running late. He's picking up Boon but he'll be here.” Shayne mentioned offhandedly. He was scrolling through his phone but looked up to say his bit before bursting out laughing. “Hah, look at this little guy. So cute, I'm retweeting that.”

“Wait, wasn’t Boon assigned to watch over Dodger and the little one till Strippin got released?” Lawlman asked with a brow raised.

Tomato nodded as he popped the cap off his beer and took a long swig, tossing the cap across the room. Without even looking, it hit the wall and bounced into the trash can perfectly. He shrugged and lowered himself down onto the armrest of one of the plush couches. “Yeah, but he had to get switched out because Dodger threatened to stab him if he didn’t plan on making a move to get her husband released. What is Charborg up to by the way? I saw him on the cameras at Lynch the other week but that was all I’ve heard from him.”

“He's.. busy right now.” Benji answered timidly. He met Criken’s eyes for a moment but looked away with a flinch, unable to hold his stare.

“What do you mean, he's busy?” Tomato narrowed his eyes at him, expression going dark at the others lack of explanation. He tilted his head to the side and his neck made a scary click at the motion.

Benji trembled at the redheads heated tone and looked up at each person in turn, as if pleading for his life. “I was.. I was just trying to keep the business going. You understand right? I needed to make a few deliveries. One here, one there. It was nothing too big and Charborg was willing to get me what I needed.”

“What!?!” Tomato yelled out again, taking a step forward before a hand at his shoulder brought him pause. He looked over at Lawlman who had intercepted him and frowned at the others passive expression. “You can't just do that! You know the rules. Charborg needs to be available at all times. He's the best doc we have.”

“One of the best.” Bree chimed in lightly. “Don't undermine Dave’s skills.”

Tomato frowned at her before turning his anger back on Benji. “We need our doctors available at all times to help our boys out there on the field.”

“And I needed to make sure that the money was still flowing. I know you have plenty of things to worry about but… but so do I! Do you think it's easy running Strippin’s entire operation while he's gone?!?” Benji stood up and for the first time, looked like he was about to stand his ground but as quick as the defiance showed itself, it flickered out. “It was more like a favour honestly and his money was good.. He’s a good kid and the delivery was swift. No one got hurt.”

All eyes looked over at Shayne, the man who ran all of the grow ops in the city. He downed his drink in one shot and looked up from his phone. “Hey don't look at me, I wasn't aware of any deliveries going out..”

“I haven't been running for Shayne.” Benji admitted with a small voice.

“Then who?” Lawlman asked in Tomato’s stead, one hand still resting on his shoulder to hold him back.

“Relax, you act like I don’t know what I'm doing. I’ve been in this business just as long as you guys.” Benji said with a stomp of his foot.

“Benj…. Who have you been running deliveries for?” Tomato demanded, cracking his knuckles, one finger at a time. His eyes were narrow, daring the other to lie to him.

Benji leaned back in his seat as if hoping it would swallow him whole. “He's no one, just a kid who's appetite is as fucked as yours is.”

“Excuse me?!” Tomato almost lashed out but was held back by both Zyke and Lawlman. Both men holding one shoulder. He struggled in their grip but gave up after a moment and resigned himself to not being able to maim Benji on the spot.

“He's unaffiliated..” Criken spoke up after the room quieted down a bit. He sipped from his beer and only once he had everyone's attention did he continued. “Apparently the ‘kids’ money is good enough for Benji to put us at risk, not tell us about it and put Charborg to work despite us needing him free at all times.”

“Benj…” Zyke whined, his heels starting to drag from how hard Tomato was struggling. Both him and Lawlman were starting to lose their grip on him.

“Why else do you think Tamto and Bed still hunt for their meals? To keep him free… At. All. Times.” Lawlman ground out. He wrapped one arm around Tomato’s shoulder to stop him from getting away but was startled when the man went still all of a sudden. He continued to hold on in case it was a ruse. “Even Bed hasn’t gone hunting in years to keep to scent off of us.”

“Yeah. Wait… Bed?!” The redhead looked around the room until he saw Criken. The man looked back unabashingly, not even blinking in surprise. “You mother fucker, you knew?!”

Criken crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he dared the other to start a fight with him. “Of course I knew. He's been working in the background for me for years.”

“And I’m just finding out about this now?” Tomato looked shocked and almost betrayed.

“You said so yourself that you didn't want to know about anything else that could distract you from your job or get you implicated in others work.”

Tomato wanted to argue but true to Criken’s words, he did say that when they began working together. He didn't have a leg to stand on. “Tch… How long?”

“About a year and a half now.” Criken shrugged, rolling his shoulders as he spoke. He placed his drink back onto the table with a satisfying clink. “Oh, but that's just how long I've known about his extracurricular activities. If your asking how long he's been working with me though, I can say for sure that he's been with us since the beginning.”

Sensing that the air was clearing up, Lawlman loosened his grip on Tomato and stepped back with a pat to his back. “That's explains why the both of you were so confused when you met each other. I'll tell you, that was one hell of a situation to be called to.”

“Huh.. so that explains the broken nose and bite you had a couple weeks ago..” Criken gave that small content smile of his, amusement flickering in his eyes. He recalled seeing the man frowning back at him through the screen of his computer, the webcam barely picking up the discolouration of the bites and bruises around his thrust and collar. Tomato did very little to hide the injuries but refused to speak on where he got them so he assumed it was from a typical street brawl.

Tomato grumbled under his breath while stomping over to the couch to sit next to Shayne. “He almost tore off my ear Criken!”

“Don't be such a drama queen.. He can't even chew through the cartilage anyways.” Lawlman chimed in playfully, one finger raised to add to his point. He adjusted his glasses with a shit eating grin on his face. “I should know, I’ve had to clean up after his little messes.”

“I can't fucking believe this… I could have had a partner in crime the whole time..” Tomato complained, letting his head fall back till his head hit the couch. He continued to slam his head against it till Shayne took pity on him and rested his jacket under his head.

“Huh, I figured he’d be more pissed that I didn't tell him.” Criken hummed, raising a hand to his chin. He watched as Tomato lifted his head to give him a withering glare but his small smile giving away his amusement.

“You want pissed, I'll give you pissed if you want.”

“Please don't, for my sake at least. You are really loud when your angry.” Zyke whined again, already walking towards the bar. He threw his hands up in exasperation, drawing Sput's attention to him as he approached. After drinks were ordered and paid for, the two held a quiet conversation away from the rest of the group. Sput was in the middle of doing up his tie, preparing for the Sideshow meeting.

Criken shook his head and reached into his bag, retrieving his laptop and opening it on the table. “Alright, let's get back on topic here, shall we?”

The others hanging around the room moved till they were close enough to hear Criken talk as he typed. Lawlman, Shayne and Tomato sat on one couch while Bree sat to Criken’s right on the other couch. Across the table, Benji was still nervously lounged on the plush loveseat and he made a panicked ‘oof’ noise as Zyke approached, sat on the arm of the chair and flopped backwards onto him.

“The Feds have two warehouses storing most of Strippin’s seized goods. Turns out, his unorthodox means of transporting goods is making things hard for them to catalogue and sort through all his stuff.”

“Drugs in guns and guns in drugs.” Shayne chimed in helpfully, making a swishing motion with his hands as if he were conducting an orchestra.

Tomato stood up to join Criken at his laptop. He lifted the other hacker’s drink off the table so it wouldn't spill and offered it to him before sitting to his left. “Wait.. They're still doing things by the books over there? Man, that must be a hell of a lot of paperwork.”

“Indeed. It's made things a lot easier for me to keep eyes on though.” Criken hummed his appreciation and took a sip from the bottle, handing it back to Tomato. With a few clicks, he popped up three different camera feeds. The footage was grainy but showed enough of the warehouse. “I've seen two trucks on rotation that come and go under escort.”

“Are they moving stuff from one location to the other?” Sput asked, throwing a towel over his shoulder. He was leaned over the back of the couch, hovering just over Shayne’s shoulder, his blue tie now on display for all to see. “If so, it might be easier to hit the trucks while in transit.”

Zyke was rolled off of Benji’s lap with a push and he sat cross legged, unbothered by the fact that he was on the floor. He stretched his arms over his head, nodding at Sput’s suggestion. “It might be worth it.” He looked over at Criken. “Do we know what's inside them?”

“As a matter of fact I do. I have the manifest right here.”

Tomato perked up at that and rose a hand, pointing at himself with a gleeful expression. “Hah, I did that. That was me.”

Criken smirked at him and slid the laptop over an inch so Tomato could reach it. “Want to do the honours?”

“Of fucking course.” He took control of the laptop and typed for a few minutes before letting out a huff of air. “What am I even looking at right now? Fuck, I am not used to your setup Criken. Hold on..”

Tomato clicked a few buttons on his phone and the laptop made a happy chime signalling it was now connected to something else. The screen changed to a different desktop that already had varying streams of data running in different smaller windows.

“Are you fucking parsecing your computer right now?” Lawlman rose a brow in disbelief, arms crossed.

Tomato grinned over his shoulder. “Something like that… Heh, and you thought Criken's setup was insane. My baby is completely accessible anytime, anywhere.”

“Well, it does help that Crik’s hardware just went up in flames.” Zyke held up his phone, currently streaming the local news. The reporter was standing outside a gutted house that was still smouldering in the background. There were firefighters digging through rubble behind a set up police blockade.

Criken couldn't help but snicker in pride, actually portraying some semblance of emotion as he did so. “Aw, that's adorable that you think that was my set-up.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile... again. Man, I'm getting tired of saying that. Maybe I should stop procrastinating, eh? 
> 
> Want to know an interesting fact? I ran this story through a wordcounter cause I can't do that on my ipad and I apparently wrote Buck's name over 80 times so far. Damn...


	10. Fourth of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will never stop; I'm motivated by enemies. Setting up shop; So everybody remember me." Bedbanana, probably..

***

His work shift had gone on much later than he wanted it to and by the time Buck got outside, the sun had long set over the horizon. The cold wind a blessing and he hooked a finger at his collar to let his heated skin breathe.

“Can't wait to get out of this uniform..” Buck rolled his shoulder with a grumble, glancing back and forth before crossing the street. He didn't see any vehicles so he stepped off onto the road, walking towards to park.

Just as he was halfway across, his eyes caught sight of a small red glow from the entrance to the park. There was man that he hadn't seen earlier, watching him from his laxed pose against the gate. He looked out of place standing at the entrance to the park he was about to pass through. The light that had caught his eye was the end of a cigarette pinched between the man's thin fingers, the tip flashing red with every inhale.

Buck didn't like the feel of those eyes on him, every part of his mind telling him to turn around and run back into the restaurant. He could feel the chill in the air and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as dark eyes met his.

The stranger watched Buck with a look of boredom, smoke following a dance as it seeped from his lips. His arms were rested behind him on the railing, sleeves rolled up to expose a pricy looking watch around his left wrist and a floral tattoo on the forearm. Buck wasn't an expert when it came to flowers by any mean but he was sure there weren't many types of flowers that had spikes sticking out like the one the man had inked on his skin. The figure took the time during a deep drag to follow his gaze down to it before looking back at him again.

Buck swallowed heavily and wiped at his brow, trying to keep his hands steady as he did so. At the others subtle nod, he heard a car pull up on the street behind him and knew that he couldn't escape now even if he wanted to. He was cut off from getting back into the restaurant. How the men even knew where he worked, he hadn't a clue and that fact scared him even more. What if they knew where he lived too?

“Get in the car.” The man in front of him ordered, one hand adjusting his cufflink, the same flower branded on each one. He still wore that bored expression but his eyes were sharp. They looked like they could cut through him like a knife.

Buck shook his head and went to step back but paused as a gun was pulled out from behind the strangers back. The pistol was lifted to his head and he watched as a finger curled around the trigger, the safety clicking off.

“No, I don't think you understand the situation. Get in the fucking car.”

Holding his hands to his sides, Buck stuttered nervously and turned to face the dark Camaro parked in front of him. He couldn't see anyone through the tinted glass, the lighting from the park being very poor.

‘I’m going to die here.’ His hand ticked at his sides and he squeezed his fists tight till the knuckles went white. He took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves but they came out short and jittery. His mind was racing a mile a minute while he raised one hand to the door handle.

‘I'm going to die here.’ Buck’s mind continued to rattle off, the words running on repeat like a song playing from an ice cream truck. It cheerily rang over and over again as swallowed heavil. He was a panicking mess and was barely being held together by each breath he took only to break apart again at the cold touch of steel at his head.

‘Oh god, I’m going to die!’ The gun tapped the back of his skull harder this time as the gunman’s agitation grew. It hurt that time and Buck nodded weakly, feeling darkness dot his vision. He needed to breath but the air felt too thin all of a sudden and he couldn't get enough into his lungs with each breath.

“Hurry up, we don't have all nig-” The man’s voice was cut off with a wet gasp for air as the weight of the gun fell away from his head. He heard a gurgle followed up by the sound of rapid thumping that finally ended a sickening crack.

Buck still had his hand on the door handle when the passenger window to his right exploded into shards of glass. The sound of the glass breaking was enough to have him falling onto his knees, hands grabbing his head with a sob. He had no idea what was happening and was scared of getting shot. His heart was racing in his chest, hands continuing to shake and grip at his hair tightly. “Fuck.. please… I don't know what I did wrong.. Please..”

He heard two distinct pops followed by a gurgle and the car horn began to go off in a steady endless stream. There was footsteps on the glass to his right as someone shifted beside him but he refused to look up, breath coming out in short, halted heaves.

The car horn stopped after a moment and a voice next to him sighed as casually as one would when mentioning the weather. “Yeah, ok.. That's fine. Just let the whole neighbourhood you’re here, why don't you.”

A hand fell onto Buck’s shoulder and he flinched, hands still shaking in an uncontrollable manner. He expected an attack of some sort but was instead met with a gentle squeeze, another hand meeting his other shoulder. They massaged small strokes into the tension that had grown between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, hey, hey…” The voice whispered just behind him. “Just take small breaths. Can you do that for me? Focus on breathing.”

Buck nodded and inhaled shakily, the feeling of cool air making him sputter and tear up uncontrollably. He shivered, feeling so cold all of sudden. “I.. c-can’t..”

“You can. I know you can. Just, inhale..”

His hands continued to flex in front of face, the movement drawing his attention away from the broken glass next to him. He licked his lips and more gently this time, filled his lungs with air. He did the best he could to listen to the mysterious man’s voice and ignore the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears. The voice was a calming balm that eased his stress as he spoke.

“Count to two then let it out. Now do it again. Just like this, deep breath-”

Buck stayed on his knees just focusing on steadying his breathing as the person behind him stood up again. The hands that were grounding him left his shoulders and he shuddered in fear, scared that he was leaving him… or worse. “W-wait..”

“I'm not going anywhere. Just making sure there are no more problems.”

“Problems?” His voice came out as a squeak.

The man seemed amused by that sound judging by the airy laugh. “Not you. I’m talking about these two idiots. Judging from the situation I found you in, I wouldn't be surprised if Outlander plans on sending more men to snatch you up.”

Buck turned his head to look over his shoulders. He didn't know what he expected to see but a man wearing a hoodie that hid everything but his smirk was not one of them. “I don't- I don't understand.. Why was that man waiting for me? What did he want? What would have happened if I had of gotten into the car? Who are you? Are you going to hurt me?”

The figure lifted a gloved hand to his lips as if contemplating. “You want my honest answer? Cause your not going to like what I say.” He continued to tap his bottom lip and shook his head.

“I don't know who this Outlander is but surely I can tell them that I didn't do anything-”

His words were cut off by another laugh, this time the hooded man was leaning forward and dramatically wiped at his eyes as if clearing tears from his face. “I think your misunderstanding the situation that you’re in. These guys don't just pick up random people on the street to assault. If they are here, you better believe that you did something to draw their attention.”

As he spoke, there was the screeching of rubber on pavement and two more cars came around the corner. They halted at the end of the street, engines revving up intimidatingly. “But hey, there's your opportunity right there. Go ahead, step out there and explain to them that you did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Buck saw the glimmer of dark, knowing eyes under the hood and realized what the other was insinuating. He slapped his hand in the ground to help brace his wobbly legs and got up into a crouch. “Fuck… Ok.. Tell me you have a way of getting us out of here.”

“Us?”

“O-of course. I mean, why else would you save me if your just going to let me die.” Buck looked down at the suited man laid out on the sidewalk behind them. His head was tilted at a horrible angle, eyes wide but unseeing.

“Honestly, I just hate Outlander pushing into my hunting grounds. Figured if I cut a few of his boys off at the ankles, he'd finally give me some breathing room.” The man shrugged and produced a silenced pistol from a holster hidden under his hoodie. “But I suppose letting him snag one of Strippin’s boys would be bad for business, hm?”

Buck went tense at that. He held his breath and looked up and down between the gun at the dark eyes under under the hood. “How did- wait, you work for…”

“Name’s Bed but how about we do full introductions later. Perhaps somewhere where we won't get shot at by Outlander’s boys.”

Buck was about to say something else when the windshield above his head shattered, glass falling onto him in a shower of refracted light. “Oh god, yeah. I'm with you. Introductions later.”

The man kept one hand on his shoulder, holding him from moving and gestured with his gun in front of him in a counting motion. After a couple of seconds, the round of automatic fire stopped and he stood up, shoving Buck towards the park. “Get behind the sign.” He growled and whipped the gun in one of the vehicles direction.

The sound of his gunfire was a complete contrast to the loud shots that came from the two cars still racing down the street. There were three pops and one of the vehicles halted suddenly to go in for another strafing run. The other revved up loudly and kept going down the street unrelenting even as it crashed through a bus stop. There was a shower of sparks as it bolted straight towards the stairwell that led into the subway and two people jumped out the back before it crashed.

“Holy fuck…” Buck murmured, sliding behind the park’s welcoming sign just as bullets struck the concrete and metal barrier. He could see Bed ducked behind the car, his cover slowly being eaten up by bullets. The car was more holes than metal at this point and there was a small pool seeping from within.

Buck had seen enough movies to know what that was. “Hey!” He screamed over the sound of squealing tires and pointed at the man's feet once he looked up at him. “It's leaking gas.”

The right side of the sign he was hiding behind exploded in broken concrete and he sputtered, instinctually throwing himself onto his stomach. Buck glanced up to see who was firing in his direction. The men who had thrown themselves out of the moving car were now up and marching down the street, moving like a firing squad while shooting at him unrelentingly.

They were also suit clad like the first man but unlike him, they were armed with the kind of weaponry only seen on military tv shows. One of them threw an empty magazine to the ground and retrieved another, reloading with expert ease and raising the weapon up before his body recoiled back as Bed fired under the car without aiming. He fell backwards from the shot and grabbed at his thigh, gritting his teeth and screamed. “Kill that fucker!!”

Buck saw the other car spin at the end of the street and stop suddenly. Something bulky and tubular hang out the window and rotated in the leaking car's direction. He had never seen a rocket launcher in real life before but regardless, he knew that if they hit that vehicle, the man who had saved him was going to die.

“Rocket!” He yelled like his life depended on it. In a way, it did. This man was the only thing between him and a shit ton of men who had the full intention of doing horrible things to him.

The hooded figure didn't look up at him but still seemed to acknowledge what he had screamed, already throwing his body forward. His form propelled towards the park and he tucked himself into a roll just as the launcher expelled the rocket with a loud pressurized exhale. The explosion sent rubble, glass and him flying forward and he flipped in the air numerous times before sliding in a crumpled heap. He struggled to move but Buck could see red staining the ground around the ground.

Without thinking, Buck grabbed him by the arm and dragged him behind the sign. He wrapped an arm around the man and pulled him close to his body, taking as much of his weight as he could. “Shit shit shit… what do we do?! What do we do?” He was contemplating taking a run for it but he'd never make it if he carried the other man with him and leaving him behind was not an option. Bed had saved him and Buck always paid back his debts in full.

“Phone..” The hood had fallen back to reveal dark hair and sharp, handsome features covered in blood and dirt. If he weren't covered in grim, he would certainly be a charming sight to behold but as it stood, he was bruised and battered with a cut at his brow and a bleeding lip. One eye was closed to prevent blood from getting in it, the other was sharp and shone a dark intelligence that he had never seen before. “P-pizza time.”

Buck looked at him wide-eyed, ducking as another spray of concrete dust blew over their heads. He could feel broken glass against his body, protruding from the other man’s ribs where the concussion of the blast had hit him. “What?! How can you be thinking about ordering pizza at a time like this?!?”

“Pizza.. time…” Bed’s body went limp against Buck, hand still holding his phone. His breathing was shallow and his face was pale from blood loss. Now unconscious, he was dead weight against the steadily decreasing amount of cover they had.

Buck was scared and not in a ‘late for work, I might lose my job’ kind of way. This was a life or death situation he was in and a single misstep can and will get him killed. He was pinned down with nowhere to go and now he had a very heavy unconscious body leaned on him. “Oh fuck…” He grabbed the phone that the other man managed to unlock for him and quickly thumbed through the numerous icons on the screen. Sure enough, there was one with a picture of a slice of pizza and underneath were the words ‘Pizza Time’.

“This pizza better be a worth it.” Buck murmured under his breath and pressed the button. His other hand found the forgotten pistol on the ground and he held it up to his chest protectively as the icon lit up and and after a flash of an image of a pizza slice, a message popped up that had his jaw dropping.

‘PROCEED: Emergency ping prepared: 3622’368225”723.4583:9527 STANDBY: Return ping receive: 4886’3195385”29.63352:221 CONFIRM: y/n”

Buck didn't even hesitate and pressed ‘y’ on the phones keyboard without even thinking to try a decipher the jargon he had seen go across the screen like a banner.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto something, shits about to get ugly..


	11. Pizza time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza, pasta. Put it in a box. Deliver it to my house,  
> and put it on my cock, my cock, my cock, my cock, my cock, my cock, my coooooock.  
> Cheesy on my peeni and some sauce-a on my balls.

“-and Tomato will activate the gate once the first truck is in position.” Criken ran two fingers over the screen of his laptop as he spoke, indicating the location with a tap.

Zyke nodded and leaned over the couch. “I can get a few of my boys on those walls, there and there.”

Tomato made a noise in his throat but said nothing, watching the live feed of the warehouse for any sign of movement. He rose a brow at the sight of one of the trucks approaching the gate but a glance at the license plate confirmed who the vehicle belonged to.

“Lawlman, is it possible to-” Criken’s words were cut off as his laptop began to happily play a tune without prompt. He flinched at the sound of it and looked almost nervous before he quickly composed himself in front of the others. “That can't be right..”

“What is that?!” Shayne yelled from across the room. He came out of the washroom, wiping his wet hand off on his jeans. “Is that pizza time?”

Everyone looked over at him and then back at Criken expectantly. Everyone except Tomato, who seemed to already know what was going on and was typing like a madman on his phone.

Criken tilted the screen back to give everyone a better view of his screen. “It means someone's in need of assistance immediately.” He opened up a program that was flashing in the background and a satellite image of the city appeared. It showed the Showroom before zooming out. Once far enough out, a few pings went off and bounced off three towers. A line connected each one of the towers marking a perfect triangle in the screen.

“I can find Bed by using the satellite to bounce a pinger between the three nearest towers his signal came from.” The screen zoomed in till it showed a birds eye view of a park entrance and the burning husk of a destroyed car. “Is that- What is going on down there?”

Zyke was already up and grabbing his jacket. “I know where that is. C’mon Shayne.” He was already out the door before Shayne could catch up.

“You won't make it in time. But I know someone who might be able to get there..” Tomato called out to them, already typing something into his phone. He frowned at the sound of the club door slamming shut and put his phone up to his ear with a grumble. “Hey, it’s me. Listen, I need you to make a small detour.”

***

The two suited men were now sweeping the park, following the streaks of blood left behind by the unconscious man being dragged around. “Come out and maybe we’ll make it painless.” One of them threatened out loud, grip tightening on his rifle.

They were following the trail of blood that led to a small storage shed used by the park gardeners. Just as they got close, they heard a rustling in the bushes and tensed up.

“Over there..” One of them whispered. “Go check it out.”

One of them snuck up to the bush and kicked at it, stepping back just as a squirrel came jumping out.

The other had gone around the small stone building and smirked at the sight of someone sitting on the ground, head stooped low and side bleeding heavily. “Heh, night night.” He rose his gun to fire but suddenly went still, his eyes rolled back into his head and fell forward. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, revealing a trembling and bloody Buck holding a big branch.

“Fuck..” He dropped it and dove forward to grab the gun, turning just in time as the other gunman came up running. Buck held the rifle in front of him and squeezed the trigger, the gun shaking in his hands because of the recoil. “Oh fuckfuckfuckFUCKfuck…”

The other man collapsed on the ground and Buck took two steps back, wide eyed and still covered in blood. He fell to his knees and gave a weak heave. Behind him, he heard a tired laugh and looked over to see the other man, the one who had saved him, now conscious and trying to get up by using the wall.

“Not bad.. I'm guessing from that expression, that was your first time.”

Buck wiped the wet streak of blood off his face and looked over with watery eyes. “I don't like.. hurting people. I know, I know.. they were trying to kill us and I had to do it to protect us and all that but it still feels wrong.”

“But you survived. They tried to kill you but you were stronger, faster and smarter than them. You had the will to survive.” The man stood up and gently, painfully removed his hoodie, bunching it up and pressing it to his side. His shirt underneath was once a nice yellow but was now soaked to his jeans in blood. “That’s all you need to justify what you've done.”

After taking a moment to scrub his bloodied face in the crook of his sleeve, Buck looked up and tried to smile. “I guess you're right in a way. We really didn't have much of a choice, did we?”

The body on the ground groaned and reached a hand up and Buck jolted away. He didn't have a chance to say or do anything else because the other man was there, blade in hand. He drove it into the back of the gunman's skull and gave it a violent twist before pulling it back out with a wet noise.

“Like I said, we are fast and stronger and-” The sound of a gunshot at the entrance of the park brought him to pause and he looked up with a contemplative expression.

Buck shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously and held the gun up in front of him. He was off put at the sound of another shot but eased up as the other put a hand on top of the barrel and lowered it. “What is it?”

“That's the sound of a high powered rifle. Fifty caliber. Most definitely a Barrett.” He answered simply, listening as three more shots rang out and then suddenly, silence. “Alright, let’s go. Stay behind me though.”

The two of them walked back to the entrance of the park just as the sound of sirens began to fill the air. There were more bodies laid all over the place, some looked like they made it a few feet into the park before being shot down. Buck stepped around the body, hand still reaching forward as though trying to crawl to safety.

“Tch, he's so messy. But I guess leaving a wounded soldier out to bleed is the best tactic to draw the others out.” The bloodied man snickered to himself, still leaning his weight on Buck. He pointed out to three other gunmen, their forms limp and messily sprawled just outside the door of their car. They looked like they didn't get very far before being taken out.

Buck looked around at the nearby roofs in a paranoid gesture. He knew that snipers favoured high places but couldn't see anyone sticking out and that's what scared him the most.

“Relax, stay next to me and you'll be fine.” The man hissed in pain as they stepped off the curb and onto the road. The motion jarred his wound and drove the glass in deeper.

Buck flinched at that and tried his best to take more of his weight in apology. “Sorry… Sorry..”

“Don't apologize. Hell, I wouldn't be here to complain about my wounds if you didn't drag my ass into the park with you…” He trailed off, eying a few more cars that were about the street. Three of them were blockading the intersection and two more were parked linear against the park fence. “You could have left me and ran.”

Buck shook his head at that and grit his teeth. His hands were still shaking but he felt more determined than ever. “No, I couldn't have. I wouldn't have. That's not the person I am, not the persona I ever intend to be.”

The man said nothing at that but he gave a soft smile in acknowledgement and nodded. His steps stumbled more as they walked and by the time they got to the intersection, he was pale faced and almost on the brink of unconsciousness again.

Before that, he pointed out a gorgeous green humvee parked in the centre of the road. It was facing towards them and strangely enough, movement could be seen on top of the roof. “There, that's our pick up.”

The large vehicle drove up to them at a crawl and pulled up next to them with a honk.  
“Friends of yours?” Buck asked, still keeping a tight grip on the rifle he was holding. He was answered by the window rolling down and a man sticking his head out the drivers side.

“Hey, what's a fine man like you doing in a neighbourhood like this?” The driver’s cheerful smile changed as he gave both of them a once over. He noticed the blood and frowned. “Bed, what happened to you?”

“Dave I have never been more happy to see you than right now.” He laughed bitterly, stumbling over to the car with Buck’s help. “I'm barely keeping it together man. Pretty sure I’ll be coughing up glass tonight.”

Bed climbed into the front and slouched forward, leaning over and wrapping his arms around the headrest of the driver's seat. “Thanks for coming. I'm assuming ‘he’ sent you?”

Dave looked over Bed’s shoulder as Buck got into the back and rose a brow at his choice of wording but didn't argue. “Yeah, he said something about ‘pizza’ and Boon and I were in the area so..”

“Boon?” Buck tilted his head to the side in a curious gesture, looking between the two of them before someone dropped from the top of the humvee with a thud. The man landed in a crouch and stood up with a rifle about the same height as him resting on his shoulder. He chirped a happy ‘hello’ at him and laughed at Buck’s startled expression.

The man continued laughing at the others reaction and adjusted his green tie before opening the back door and shoving the rifle in. He sat it on Buck’s lap and climbed in after him. “The police are still distracted a block away so the drive back should be pretty clean. Unless more of Outlander’s boys show up, then things are going to get interesting.” He kicked open the floor panelling at his feet and exposed a heavy weapons case inside, opening it to reveal a perfect styrofoam cut out for the rifle he had been using.

“Hi, I'm Boon. Nice to meet you. Unless of course we have met before and I just forgot, I’m bad with names. Anyways, mind giving me a hand with this? It takes forever to disassemble Liza.” Buck was still slack jawed and didn't know what to say as the other man grabbed his free hand and gave it a shake. He was still slowly piecing together the facts that this hyper man was the one who just killed two dozen men without any signs of remorse. In fact, he looked almost giddy. “And she's a big girl. She takes a lot of room in the truck.”

“Don't talk about Liza like that.” Bed grumbled from the front seat.

Buck shook his head slightly to try to clear his head and coughed into his fist. “I.. uh, sure? I’ll try to.. help. But I’ve never.. I mean, I've seen guns in movies?” He finished lamely.

The man just gave him a cheesy grin while twisting a part off the end of the rifle. It looked like some sort of suppression. “Hey, that's fine. We all start somewhere.” He eyed the gun still in Buck’s hands. “Nice ACR by the way. I hate Outlander and everything he stands for but you've got to give the man points for style. He loads his boys up with all the pretty gear.”

“Too bad they never heard of Kevlar.” Dave chimed in with a smile, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he drove. He fiddled with the radio one handedly till he found a station he liked and turned it up just enough to fill the dead air with noise.

Boon nodded at that and slide the case over to Buck’s feet and began handing him pieces as he removed them. “Here, I'll take her apart and you put her away. Think of it like a jigsaw puzzle.” The two of them spend a long portion of the drive doing just that.

Under Boon’s guidance, Buck gently stored away the stock, magazine and barrel. Once done, he leaned over to eyeball Bed and watched as Boon poked him to get his attention. “Hey, don't fall asleep back there.”

Bed startled from drowsy state and looked back at him. “I'm sorry, did you get blasted by a rocket and sent flying ten feet into the air?” He snapped back like a cranky child, leaned forward in his seat to get away from Boon’s proddings.

“How did you end up pissing off Outlander so bad? I thought they were staying clear of you since last time.” Boon asked, snapping the lid with a click. He slipped it back under the floor panelling and closed it.

Dave turned down a side street and despite being focused in driving, still felt like contributing to the conversation. “And where did you pick up this… um, this fine young man.” He was looking at Buck through the rear view mirror cautiously, not knowing how much he could say with him around.

“He's unaffiliated.” Bed said with a casual wave of his hand. “I found Outlander trying to snatch him so I stepped in.”

Buck looked up at him with big round eyes, a small smile on his lips. “I thought you said you were only there to kill Outlander’s men? You were actually there to help me?”

“Well, I just.. I-” Bed sputtered, playing off his embarrassment with a cough. He looked out the window and ignored Boon’s prodding as he leaned forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Boon for fucks sake.. Okay! What did you expect me to do? Just stand there and watch?”

Boon hummed under his breath and looked at Dave with a coy smirk. “Aren't they cute?”

“Young love~” Dave dramatically sighed, pressing one hand to his heart with a smile.

Bed refused to meet anyone's eyes and grumbled obscenities under his breath until they came up to the dry cleaners. He was helped into the building by Dave and Boon waited behind with Buck, locking up the giant truck..

“Why are we here? Is this a location owned by Stripp-” Buck was cut off as Boon suddenly pulled him into a rough one handed headlock. He trembled at the sudden shift in the others actions.

“You know, for someone who is unaffiliated you sure know the name of some pretty interesting people. If I were you, I'd keep the name dropping to a limit.” He whispered into his ear, a dangerous undertone to his words. He was practically dragging Buck along as they walked deeper into the dry cleaners, despite the others weak struggles.

Just as they got in the door where Dave and Bed stood waiting, his expression changed again, a small content smile on his face. Boon was waving with his suitcase at them and spoke, louder this time. “But never mind that. We have much to do, onwards!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unimportant sidenote: "Pizza, pasta time" is my ringtone and it's always fun letting my phone rind for people to hear and go "ok, now what the fuc-"


	12. Calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's building, slowly but surly...
> 
> And when it all blows over. There will be nothing left but the ashes of those burned in their light.

***

There was silence for the longest time, no one really knowing what to say. Most of the people inside of the Dark Room were still situated around Criken and his laptop, having watched the ongoing extraction by satellite. Tomato was seated at his left and had a frustrated expression on his face, practically gritting his teeth at the screen. He had started seething the moment he saw the dark stains left behind in Bed’s wake and had gone dangerously still, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched with bated breath.

Bree had her hands up to her mouth and the lines in her face softened up as the humvee came twisting around the corner, a man recklessly moving out the front passenger window and onto the rooftop. “Looks like Dave and Boon are going to clean things up before Zyke and Shayne get there.”

“Who's that with Bed? He looks awfully scrawny. Twenty bucks says he runs like the chicken shit he is.”

Criken looked over at Tomato and shook his head at his words. He noticed the way the redhead watched the screen, his eyes seemingly focused on the way the other man was carrying Bed. Tomato definitely had something going on with Bed. Which was strange since weeks ago, they hadn't ever met before.

A flicker of jealousy rose in Criken’s stomach but he swallowed that foreign feeling back. He tried to ignore it but the look on Tomato's face was imprinted in his head kept pushing the spike of envy into his gut. Despite how he was feeling, Criken shook his head and smiled. “I'll take that action. Although I bet he'll stay and fight.”

“Like hell he will.”

The sniper on top of Dave’s truck was as much of a lunatic as the rest of their little family and it showed as he got into a firefight with the men on the road without a care in the world. He was unrelenting and soon, bodies were scattered all over the streets.

Criken glanced over at a small window he had open at the corner of his screen and watched a live transcription of a phone conversation start to scroll as a panicked caller began describing the shots they had heard to the emergency dispatcher. He didn't even have time to say anything before Tomato was leaning in with a frown, taking in the words on the screen.

“It’s too late to stop the call from being sent out to the police.” Tomato murmured, thumbing over apps saved to his phone before settling on one. He eyeballed the screen as an i.d number for the dispatched cars popped up and he grinned at Lawlman. “But what we can do is send our boys in blue on a little tour of the city.”

Lawlman nodded in agreement and sat on the arm rest next to Tomato, leaning against his shoulder to see what he was doing. He had a curious quirk to his brow as he faintly recognized the display on the phone.

“So Lawlman, you remember the jargon?” Tomato offered the phone, the screen displaying a clear radio frequency and a mic on/off button.

Lawlman let out a long laugh before cutting it off suddenly with a serious expression. “Puh-leeze. Who do you think your talking to?” He lifted a finger to his lips to quiet everyone around him and took a breath before exhaling slowly,

“Unit, 10-11, over.” Lawlman spoke with a deeper voice and was precise with his words, talking like he had a purpose. He waited a heartbeat and was about to turn the mic on again, when he got a static filled reply.

“10-8.”

Lawlman looked over at Tomato. “They just got the call, should I try and reroute?” At everyone's nods of confirmation, he clicked the mic back on. “Copy, advise a 10-22. 10-49 to 45 division. Over.”

They entire room held their breath and glanced around, unsure of what to do at this nerve wracking moment. If they became suspicious of Lawlman, then the gig was up and it would end up bringing more units down on Dave and the others. Not to mention, it would make it clear that Sideshow was manipulating the dispatchers radio calls. That would cause a lot more trouble in the future.

There was static and a half second pause before a voice responded. “No 10-68?”

Lawlman muted and let out a short laugh. “I can't believe this is working. Aheem, 10-68. Over.”

“Copy. Unit 10-8, Out.” The radio went silent and everyone barely waited before the mic was off again before people were on their feet and cheering.

Bree let out the breath she had been holding and giggled at the expression on Lawlman’s face. He looked pleased as punch with what he had accomplished but turned shy the minute he saw all eyes on him.

“Holy shit Lawlman. You weren't kidding back there.” Sput chimed in with a laugh. “How long has it been, since it’s obvious you’ve been looking for an excuse to use the lingo again.”

The man in question lifted a hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck. “Too long honestly. It's the small things I miss. The paperwork and shitty leadership was really the only thing that broke my interest in the service.” He handed the phone back and offered Tomato a pat on the shoulder.

“I told them that another unit has been already contacted and is on scene. They responded that they acknowledged and put the status forth that they are 10-8 or ‘available for future calls’. Hopefully, that'll scramble things enough to buy time for them.” Lawlman returned to his seat and collected his glass as he went. Feeling satisfied with a job well done, he crossed one leg over the other and took a sip.

“Good job. Looks like your distraction worked.” Criken complimented softly, eying the man over the top of his laptop. He nodded at the toast he received from the fixer. He indicated to the large vehicle that had just taken a turn two blocks out of view of the nearest police cruiser that had been diverting back to their division. “Now all we can do now is wait and hope that Dave brings our boys home safe and sound.”

Everyone in the room nodded and took their seats again, the excited energy in the room simmering down as they waited for the return of their own.

***

Fifteen minutes later and a chime sounded, indicating that the tunnel from the dry cleaners to the Dark Room was in use and after a few minutes, the door swung open to reveal Dave and Bed in all his mustled glory.

Dave helped Bed step into the room and began to steer him towards one of the doors as Boon walked a step behind him with a young man at his side, one hand at his shoulder to keep him from trying to run off. The young man looked shaken up with specks of dry blood still streaked across his cheek and stained on his clothes.

Being half walked and half carried into the room, Bed didn't really have a choice in what direction Dave led him. He was breathing heavily, the sound being the only thing aside from his heart beating in his ears. The silence inside the Dark Room was almost deafening to the injured man and he glanced up to see the various expressions on everyone's face.

Bed, feeling self conscious, started to pull away from Dave and the man gave him a grumble and pouted. “Bed, please.. We need to get you fixed up. Bed!” There was a brief struggle between the two of them, both wanting to go in different directions.

“Fuck that. I'll tell you what I need and what I need is a drink and an update on the Outlander situation stat.” Bed met Criken’s eyes from across the room and there was an unspoken moment shared between the two of them before their eye contact broke with an unreadable look.

“Fine. But don't get mad at me if you end up hurting yourself more because you didn't listen to me… yet again.” Dave murmured sadly, leading him to the couch next to the pool table.

Bed slowly wobbled over to the rest of the group and Lawlman and Benji moved immediately to make room for him. They helped him settle on the couch as Dave wandered off to go find the surgical equipment that Charborg had stored there. He was murmuring about how no one listened to him as he stormed off, the storage door slamming behind him in finality.

Lawlman lowered Bed onto the couch with a gentle hand while Benji backed away with a pale face. He had caught sight of the blood and he looked woozy, raising a hand to his face to cover his nose. Bed was laid out lengthwise, a hand still holding the sticky bundle of material at his side. Despite the blood loss and half his shirt being stained in red, his eyes looked sharp and focused on the task at hand.

“So the faceless man finally comes out of the shadows, eh?” Lawlman smiled reassuringly, sitting on the arm of the chair next to his head. He gently eased the bloodied material away from Bed’s side to get a look at the damage and masked the pained look in his eyes with an expression of amusement. “For some reason I doubt this was the way you planned on revealing yourself.”

Bed lifted a bloodied hand and ran them through his bangs, red streaking through the dark brown locks and staining his scalp. “Heh, laugh it up funny man. Is this revenge for last time?”

“Last time? Oh. You mean with Tomato? Nah, I actually thought that whole situation was hilarious.” The suited man looked up with a grin. He made a gun motion with his hand and pointed his finger at Tomato.

Tomato was still sitting next to a cross legged Criken and looked up from the laptop just long enough to huff a breath at Lawlman. “Yeah, I still haven't forgiven you for that.” He looked at Bed and shook his head at the state of him before returning to his work. “Nor did I forget this.” He indicated with a thumb to the yellow patch at his throat.

“Hah, kinky~” Bree cooed, leaning forward in her seat. She grinned unabashingly at Tomato who was grumbling under his breath, hitting the buttons on his phone hard as he typed.

Bed winked at the her words and playfully pressed two bloodied fingers to his lips to mime blowing a kiss at the redhead. He would have continued to pester him but didn't have the chance because Dave had come back into the room and gave him a look. A look that said ‘stay still or I'll be the one to injure you next time’. He gave Tomato one final wink at the flustered expression he wore and turned to look at medic with a cheeky grin.

“Alright, I'm running low on surgical thread, tape, peroxide, among other things. So I’m gonna need a restock after this.” Dave was carrying a big plastic box in both hands. He called out to Sput who was watching from behind the bar as he passed by and kneeled next to Bed. “Can you grab me the restock list?”

Sput disappeared behind the glass bar with a sarcastic ‘sure, why not.’ and a discontent sigh. A few seconds later, he popped back up with a clipboard and pen. He stepped around the counter and approached Dave with the list, already in the process of marking something down.

Dave was in the midst of apologizing profusely for having to cut open Bed’s shirt and grimaced at the sight of the wound at his side and back. “Oh, this.. um.. looks.. much worse than it actually it. I promise Bed, it's not bad at all… really.”

He looked over at Lawlman and mouthed a ‘how is he still conscious?’ to which he got a shrug and a ‘Spite, probably.’ mouthed back in return.

“You know, I'm right here, right?” Bed’s small content smile turned into a grimace as Dave prodded around the various shrapnel sticking out of him. “Dammit, Dave.. Easy there…”

“Look, your the one insisting on not letting me take care of you properly. If we were in the clean room, I'd already have this sanitized and be removing whatever it is you have sticking out of your ribs… Is that- Is that a piece of tin?” He cut Bed off just as he opened his mouth to speak. “No no, you listen here! I could have had you stitched up and sent you off with a clean bill of health but noooo… I’m Bed, I don't play by the rules.”

Dave continued to rant even as he poured a generous amount of disinfectant onto a cloth. The bottle had ‘THE GOOD D’ written in black marker on the side. He gave Bed a few second to ease up before he started cleaning the drying blood away with measured swipes. “One of these days, mama Dave isn't going to be there to fix you up..”

During this one sided argument, Tomato had gone quiet and crawled over the back off the couch to stand up. He walked over to Boon who was still holding Buck close to him with one arm wrapped around his shoulder. The man seemed to be the only thing keeping the kid from bolting back out the way they came in.

Tomato approached and rolled his neck, basking in the fearful look he got from the bloodied kid at the sound. He continued to move closer till he was in both of their personal space, eyes fixated on Buck. “So who is this Boon? Some pretty boy you decided to pick up off the street? Gotta say, he doesn't look your type.” He inquired, voice low and accent coming off more like a growl. His lip upturned ever so slightly to show a dangerous flash of teeth.

Before Boon or Buck could speak up, Tomato rose his hands up in a mocking gesture and laughed in a dark tone. “Hah, I'm just fucking with you. I know who you are.” He patted Buck on the shoulder as though he were an old friend and continued to laugh, the smaller of the two joining in with nervous laughter of his own. A few seconds passed like this before Tomato went rigid like a board, eyes narrowed and laughter cut off suddenly. He looked at Buck, his smile having disappeared as quickly as it showed.

“Oh yes, I know who you are.” Tomato’s voice was low and insidious as he spoke. “Your the little brat who ran and hid when shit hit the fan. Don't even deny it. I saw it on the feed.” He pointed at the laptop to indicate his point.

“Oh geez.. Lay off him Tamto.” Lawlman called out, getting up from his seated position next to Bed to walk over to the redhead. He gave Buck a look of pity and dropped both hands on Tomato's shoulders. He gave them a squeeze as if giving him a massage will calm the other down. “Please excuse my angry friend here. He's just cranky that it's past his bedtime.”

Criken smirked at the sound of Tomato sputtering at that but didn't take his eyes off the screen. “And he lost the bet. He thought you were too and I quote, ‘chicken shit’ to fight back.” He made air quotes with his hands before returning to typing.

“He still ran.” Tomato huffed, turning to glare at Criken, a thumb jerked over his shoulder to point at Buck. “That was the bet. If he ran, I won and-”

“No...” Criken interrupted and stood up from the couch, walking over with measured steps. His hands were dusting off the front of his shirt as if removing crumbs that only he could see. Once close enough to Tomato, he lifted a finger to curl under his collar. “We agreed if he fought back, which he did, that I'd win the bet.”

Tomato crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Criken through his glasses and was just about to speak up when he was tugged down into a kiss.

It was quick and chaste but did the job and when Criken pulled back, he wore a little smirk at the other man’s slack jawed expression and whispered against his lips. “Did I win?” He couldn't help the satisfying feeling of claiming Tomato in front of everyone. He glanced over to the injured man on the couch and felt determined to mark his territory in front of him.

“I'd say so.” Lawlman whistled appreciatively from behind and nodded, a hand stroking under his chin as if appraising art at a museum. Him and Boon walked Buck away from the interaction unfolding before him and snuck him away to the the bar. “C’mon, let’s leave the thr-er two of them to.. talk it out.”

Buck sat at the bar and looked back and forth between both men seated on either side of him with a fixed look of apprehension. He noticed another man walking over and realization hit him as he recognized who it was.

“Ben?”

Lawlman rose a brow at that but didn't say a word, choosing to watch the scene play out before him. Benji stepped between Boon and Buck’s seats, leaning in and facing the young cannibal.

“Hey Buck.” Benji was wringing his hands in front of himself nervously, eyes barely able to meet Bucks. “I'd ask why you were here but I think we both know why after seeing who you showed up with. I’m sorry you got involved in all this..”

Buck looked down at the glass bar, distracting himself with the fish swimming within its confines. He had never seen a bar made to look like a fish tank before. It was almost straight out of a movie. “Is it my fault?”

“..I don't understand. Is what you fault?” Benji watched Buck look up and followed his gaze over to the injured man on the couch. “Oh! No, it's not.. I mean, I wouldn't know since I wasn't there but-”

Lawlman leaned closer to join the conversation, his expression making it clear that he was more aware of the situation now that Buck was here. It was like a puzzle piece clicking into place and his eyes lit up. “Ah, I see. Your the kiddo that he's been running deliveries for.”

Buck balked at that and nodded his head slowly, not knowing how much the other knew about him. He was scared that if he opened his mouth, secrets would come pouring out. And judging from what Boon had said earlier, he knew an awful lot for someone unaffiliated and that made him dangerous. He tilted his head at Lawlman.

“No, nobody said anything. I'm just that good at reading people. You don't have the eyes of a killer. You don’t seem to have a sharp tongue and your hands are too soft.” At the questioning look he got, Lawlman removed one of his gloves and showed his palm, light calluses and thin cuts sticking out against his pale skin.

“I don't like hurting people.” Buck murmured.

“Of course kid. You'd have to be a total psychopath to like hurting people..” Lawlman trailed off and looked sheepish as he slipped his glove back on. “I realize how hypocritical that sounds, especially coming from me.”

“Are you like Outlander?”

Boon slammed back his drink to the right of him and lowered the glass back onto the bar with a loud clunk. The jarring noise startled the fish momentarily and earned a ‘use a fucking coaster’ from a frustrated Sput. He didn’t seem to care though and waved off the bartender with a dismissive gesture while he turned to look at Buck. “If we were like Outlander, you wouldn't be sitting here in this room.”

“Well, you would. You'd just be in a lot more parts.” Lawlman offered that airy threat as nicely as he could and pointed at Buck with a wink. “You did just walk oh-so-willingly into the vipers den.”

Getting a scared expression at his words, Lawlman leaned back and sighed. A hand reached up to pinch the stress out of his brow. “It was a joke.. But seriously, take it from a professional kid, you’re much safer in here than you are out there.”

Benji patted Buck on the shoulder and smiled up at Lawlman. “He's right. This is a good bunch here. They're like-” He paused as he strained to find the word. “-family, in a way. A real, fucked up, everyone-is-at-each-others-throat kind of way. But a family nonetheless.”

“Kind of like Thanksgiving but everyday?” Buck happily added with a raised finger. He looked back and forth between all three men and they all nodded their approval at his analogy.

“Yeah, exactly.” Lawlman eyeballed the sniper seated at the other side of Buck and he shrugged at him, the other returning the gesture in mutual understanding. “At each other's throats and eating each other's faces.” He aimed that last sentence at the two that had been kissing in the middle of the Showroom.

Tomato, having heard him, just threw a rude gesture at him and crossed his arms over his chest. He pulled off a perfect look of pure detest, his brow creased on despite his neck and ears burning bright red in embarrassments being caught. After a moment of looking upset with the situation, a small smile curled along his lips at Criken’s burning gaze.

He never got to see that openness from the other and it stirred something in his chest. Tomato unfolded his arms to pull him back into his arms and once in his embrace, kissed him again. Both hands soothed over Criken’s back and he kissed him like they were the only ones in the room.

“Annnnnd there they go again..” Lawlman turned back to the bar with an over dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I don't know why I even bother saying anything.”

They stared at each other as if they were the only ones that existed and Tomato gave Criken’s bottom lip one last nip before pulling back with a feisty glimmer in his eyes. He no longer looked as upset with the situation as he had moments ago. “Fine. We'll call it even… But next time..” He trailed off, letting Criken dance out of his grip with one last squeeze of his hand.

“Next time you'll actually concede defeat properly?” Criken threw a wink over his shoulder as he flopped back down onto the couch. He looked over at Bed and took note of his deflated expression. He felt the jealous beast inside him sated by the man's look. Before he could even think to speak up on this fact, perhaps even gloat, Bed cleared his throat with a stinging cough and looked away.

He batted Dave away from his chest and set his features in a stern expression, trying to look serious about the situation despite his injury. “Alright. Look, I'm tired of Outlander prodding around while I'm busy conducting my business. So don't tell me I just took a rocket for no reason. Tell me we actually have something to go on here.” Bed ground out, trying to divert his pained energy at someone else and not at Dave, kneeled and at eye level with his chest.

Bed bit back another frustrated noise as another shard of something thin and metallic was pulled from his body with long necked tweezers. It made a satisfying noise as it was dropped into a metal tray with a clear solution inside it. The liquid was fogged in a red mist from all the blood.

Criken wanted to say more but the shocked look on Tomato's face suddenly had him feeling guilty. He had staked his claim on the redhead but at what cost? Swallowing back the bile in his throat, he nodded just as eager to change the subject as Bed was. He tapped a few keys on his laptop before rotating the screen so it was facing the injured man.

“We've located the warehouses, tracked the trucks and now, we have the identifications of all of the personnel on site.” As he spoke, each image popped up, splitting the screen up with pictures of faces and license plates. A blueprint already marked with various lines and circles drawn on it took up most the space.

“Once we hit the warehouse, Outlander will undoubtedly catch on to what we are doing and our other target will go into lockdown. We will have to move fast or our window of opportunity closes and we’ll have to resort to more… extreme tactics.” Criken rolled his eyes as he spoke, remembering how shitty the last time went. If everyone had stuck to his perfectly designed plan it would have ended without a problem.

Bed glanced between the various headshots of federal agents with a fixed gaze. “So two teams then?”

“Three actually.” Lawlman held up three fingers as he walked over before pointing at the image of the license plates. “Zyke had a sound idea regarding the trucks. He said we should pull a switcheroo while in transit and I'm inclined to agree with him.”

“Since when did we start letting Zyke plan heists?” Dave asked, looking up from his work suturing a long weeping gash in Bed's side. He tilted his head to the side giving him an innocent appearance, despite his gloved hands being soaked in blood up to the wrist.

The door that led up to the club slammed open and dishevelled and soot stained Zyke walked in with Shayne right behind him. “Since I was the one who set up all the trackers and shit that helped track their driving route. Your welcome for that by the way.”

Zyke walked in with a smile, his rifle hanging off his shoulder by the strap and his hands were stuffed in his pants pockets. He wandered till he passed by the back of the couch and looked down at Bed, who was biting his lower lip as Dave stitched him up. “Damn.. Bed, right?”

At the nod he received, he hung over the back of the couch and offered his hand to the injured man. A bloody hand met a leather gloved one and they shook. “Nice to finally meet the man behind the blade. Seriously Bed, you do beautiful work. I have never seen another who does midline incisions like you. I’m Zyke but you probably already know that. I'm usually the one called in on your intel.” He continued to shake Bed’s hand as he spoke, excitement hanging off every word.

“Zyke, as in the ‘get Zyke’d’ Zyke?” Bed gave him a sly smile. “I maaaay have heard of you.. Heard you took a tumble out an eighth story window and still hit your mark while falling.”

“Windows can be exits too if your not a fucking coward.” Zyke laughed.

Shayne was following close behind him, looking curiously sober for once. His eyes weren't blissfully glazed over anymore and he was slightly slouched as though trying to appear smaller in the room. He wasn't smiling, in fact he looked ticked off at the interaction between the two men, his gaze darting back and forth. “If you’re both such big fans of each other, you should just suck face..”

“What, like how you and Lawlman made out?” Zyke looked up at him through dark lashes, his expression still lighthearted and he was smiling but his body was tense like a coiled snake and told a different story.

Shayne shrugged off his jacket and threw it on one of the chairs, the harness for his pistols now seen over his shirt and vest. Both were a different colour and had gold and silver parts on each respective gun. “I needed the money.” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and flopped backwards on the loveseat. His legs hung off one of the armrests and his head rested on the other.

“I didn't.” Lawlman stage whispered in the background, loud enough to be heard by both men. His attempt as wiping his hands free of the situation only seemed to make things worse and Bree playfully swatted him on the back of his head as she passed by. “....ow.”

Zykes fingers were digging into Bed’s hand as he continued to stare at Shayne, his smile fading at the others words. The air had gotten tense as the two light hearted individuals seemed to now be going toe to toe. “That money really must have been worth it.”

Bed made a pained expression that was caught by no one but Dave who was snipping the last of the medical thread away after finishing up the stitches. He threw the last of the supplies he had used away and stood up, pointing the long, hooked sewing needle at Zyke.

“Hey!” He yelled, getting the snipers attention. “Do you mind not maiming my patient? He's already hurt enough as it is. Shoo.. Shoo! ” Dave pointed at their linked hands and made shooing gestures, watching intently as the man dropped Bed’s grip like it had burned him.

“Sorry..” Zyke mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as he stood up again. He looked over at Shayne, whose expression had also softened up after Dave’s yelling. “Sorry.” He said again, directing this apology to him this time.

Shayne just rolled his head in a lazy fashion, still lounging on the loveseat like a content cat and gave him a smile. A hand already digging in his vest pocket for his pack of cigarillos. The breath that everyone had been holding was collectively released at that sight and everyone went back to tuning in to Criken, who had been patiently waiting with hands on his lap till the drama had calmed down.

“Can I continue? Thank you.” Criken asked once the room was quiet. He waited for a pause but continued without needing any sort of prompting, indicating that his question was only a respectful gesture. “Alright, so here's how things are going to play out. Three teams-”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters are now updated and from now on, fresh chapters will be coming out. Thank you all for the ceaseless amounts of patience you have shown me over the length of time I've been gone. From the holidays to getting over apbeing sick to just plain being uninspired, you all constantly drive me to put out more content. Thank you for all the comments, kind words and messages I've gotten over on my tumblr. 
> 
> If you want to see future updates and the occasional fan art for this story, maybe consider following my tumblr.
> 
> I take prompts as well: fawkespryde.tumblr.com


	13. Burn the city

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been taught to fight, to kill, to survive. But when the time comes and I have one last breath left in my body, how am I meant fit everything you've ever meant to me in one word?
> 
> Will just saying your name be enough?

***

 

“We'll have to take the trucks before they meet either points.” Criken indicated with a finger, trailing over the screen. He traced the red line that Zyke that drawn earlier, that simple mark being the only thing that gave any indication that there was a pattern to their drives.

Lawlman scanned each street before pointing at a convenient store with a big enough parking lot for the truck to fit in. “Best location would probably be here . That's where they must stop.”

“And then what?” Benji inquired with a quirked brow. He looked at Tomato who was grinning, ready to unveil his part of the plan.

***

The driver glanced at the two agents following his truck and adjusted his rear view mirror as he did so. Drumming his fingers absentmindedly to the music on the radios, he eventually turned off the highway and took the roads till he came up to his first stop. He turned on his signal and turned left, pulling the truck into the parking lot of the 7/11. The driver stepped out for a moment and nodded his head towards the two dark cars parked a few feet away. It was just another day under the watchful eyes of the Feds.

The convenient store bell dinged as he walked in and he nodded at the cashier. The figure reading comics at the front desk was a familiar one after weeks of driving this route. It was routine at this point and he walked through the aisles in his tired zombie like haze, seeking his desperately needed caffeine.

He passed by a customer eying a cheap brand of ice cream and grabbed a bag of chips off the shelf, heading to the coffee machine. With an empty cup in hand, he slipped it under the coffee machine and listened as the steamed liquid began to fill it. There were footsteps moving behind him and the camera above his head whirred once before turning to face the other way. He was in the midst of yawning as hands came into his field of vision on either side of his head.

The driver just barely managed a choke as a wire, thin and deadly, cut into his airway. His hand grabbed desperately at the man behind him but it was too late to free himself. There was a knee pressed to his back keeping him off balance even as he clawed at the garrote. The mans legs kicked out beneath him and after another moment of struggling, his body went limp in the others arms. His head lulled at a horrible angle, a thin red line indented in the flesh of his neck.

***

“Once we have control of the truck, we can take our time for the rest of the set up.” Criken pulled up a image of the storage unit with a neutral expression. He had found a blueprint left over from the original construction company and indicated with a pen at various units. “Here, here and here.”

Despite his calm headedness, it was obvious that he was more than happy that his plan was coming together and that everyone was taking part in it. It had been forever since they had brought the entirety of Sideshow together for one big hit and the fact that he was at the head of it made him proud.

“Bed, there’s no one better at subtle takedowns then you. You’ll be taking the truck to point two. Benji? You will act as his backup.” He glanced at Benji who had nodded excitedly and walked away to grab another drink before continuing in a low tone for the rest to hear. “That should get him involved without him getting into too much trouble.”

***

Benji tilted his hat lower to hide his eyes from view as he walked out from behind the counter. He watched as the dead driver was stripped down to his underwear by the Bed and as he was putting on the driver's jacket and pants, he started dragging the corpse into the back room. Under the desk was another undressed body laid out on the floor. The original cashier.

“I’ve got this covered. Go.” Benji called out to the other, eyeballing the camera feed of the parking lot. The agents parked outside were none the wiser to the switch and he watched Bed climb up into the truck and start the engine with a roar. The two smaller cars left alongside the truck as it turned out onto the street.

Benji lifted a finger to his ear and clicked the button, activating the device. “Team one, truck is now on the move.”

“Good to hear. Wipe the surveillance and meet at the third point.” Criken’s voice buzzed in his ear before pausing to address someone else. “Team two?”

***

Shayne rose a hand up like a kid in a classroom, looking around the Darkroom. “Yeah, I have a question. That plan covers the truck but who's going to be on location to open the gates for our boys to hit the warehouse?”

Everyone looked at him and said nothing but from the look in their eyes and the smirks on their faces, they already had their answer. Shayne tilted his head back at them and gave a quizzical look. “...What?”

***

The guard standing outside the storage unit noticed something shifting in the darkness outside his booth and stepped out, hand to his gun. “Who's there?” He took two more steps towards the shuffling bushes and lifted his pistol from the holster.

“I'm not fucking around. Come out now.” He waited a moment and narrowed his eyes, trying to peer into the darkness. His body tensed up as something slowly moved out from the bush and looked up at him with dark eyes and a striped tail.

“What's with the yelling?” His radio blared against his hip. The guard eyed the nocturnal creature and let out the breath of air he had been holding.

The raccoon hopped out and ignorant to the danger at hand, slowly waddled by the guard with two smaller raccoons following close behind. The guard lifted his radio up and gave a short laugh. He reholstered his gun and continued to grin as he watched the last raccoon duck behind a garbage can with a soft rustle. “Just a raccoon. Fucker jumped out of the bush and scared the shit out of me.”

“Then keep it down. We’re on radio silence till the truck arrives.”

The guard roll his eyes. “Copy.” He took two steps backwards and flipped off the raccoons with a smirk and bumped into something solid behind him. He managed a quiet ‘oof’ before an arm locked around his neck and dragged him backwards. He was taken off balance from the sudden aggressive hold and was thrown to the ground where his neck was snapped with a sickening crunch.

His body was dragged by his assailant into the booth and laid on the ground, tucked underneath the desk till it was hidden from view. The masquerade masked man looked up as a truck pulled up to the front gate and flickered its headlights at him. He gave an affirmative nod and opened the gate, letting the fake truck drive in without needing to be checked. Once it was all the way through the gate, the man clicked his earpiece on. “Team two, the storage facility is ours but we’ll need some time loading up.”

Criken made a noise of affirmation over the coms. Rapid typing could be heard in the background and a distant curse from Tomato was picked up on the mic. “Twelve minutes is what you've got. Your on the clock now Shayne so make it count.”

“On it.” Shayne replied, watching the truck turn the corner before shutting the gate down again. Once the facility was locked down, he slipped out of the booth and walked over to the main storage unit.

There were three guards laid out side by side. They looked as though someone had dragged and positioned them there after they were killed. A man wearing a bunny mask was accessing the storage unit with a set of bolt cutters as another was jumping out the back of the truck and setting up the ramp.

“Eleven and a half minutes. Hurry up and take as much as you can.” Shayne called out with a clap of his hands as he passed by. He took the bolt cutters off of one of the men passing by and hung it off his backpack. “I'll be right back. Wrap it up before then.”

He had another job he had to do and couldn't help them clear out the fbi’s confiscated goods. There was another unit here that he had to purge as a favour for Tomato.

***  
Tomato had taken Shayne off to the side during the meeting and bought him a drink at the bar, making sure no one else was in ear shot before speaking. “Hey, I have a favour to ask you.”

“A favour? Sounds interesting. What do you need?” Shayne quirked a brow at him and leaned in closer. He rested his chin on his palm with a smirk.

The redhead turned on his phone and slide it over the bar till it stopped in front of Shayne. The screen showed a frame from a security camera of two men carrying a taped up box into a storage unit.

“What's this Tamto?” Shayne pulled the phone closer to him to get a better look at the image. “Is this-”

“The storage facility that you’ll be heading to later? Yeah, it is.” Tomato took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat. He gave another quick glance and after seeing Criken still busy, he continued on. “But what your looking at is a unit that isn’t on the list.. Well, it’s not on Criken’s list.”

Shayne gave the hacker a long look, his expression turning contemplative as a realization hit him. “Let me guess. It’s on yours.”

“Let’s just say, I came into some information regarding some physical evidence being put into cold storage at that location. I know that it would take a lot of stress off of someones mind, knowing that it is destroyed.”

Following his gaze, Shayne finally realized who he was talking about and stroked his chin with intrigue. “Aw, you two are adorable. Making sure Crik stays off the radar eh? Want to keep him all to yourself?”

Tomato went almost as red as his hair at that and bustled, reaching over to palm his phone back over towards him. “Look, if your just going to make this a joke..”

“Relax man, you know I was only kidding..” Shayne’s expression went somber at that and he took a sip of his beer. He tapped the top of the bar for a few second before giving the other man a confirming nod. “Alright, what do you need me to do?’

***

The unit that Shayne walked up to was a smaller one. It was in the same facility but other than that, it had no similarities to the main ones holding the confiscated good. Shayne took a brief moment to confirm the details on his phone before retrieving the bolt cutters. “Let's see what's behind door number one.”

After cracking open the lock with a snip, he slipped into the darkness and flicked on the light switch. The fluorescent lights flickered in disuse before slowly powering on and brightening up the room. There was a row of six filing cabinets on either side, each bearing three drawers full of supposed evidence that they had on the illusive man, Criken. The fact that they had physical files hidden away was proof enough that the hacker was crippling all their digital records. Sitting innocently in the middle of the room was a plastic box with an evidence tape sealing the lid.

“Silent alarm is off so you can flash fry anything you can't take with you.” Tomato’s helpful voice sounded in his ear, more quiet than Criken’s was earlier. He must have stepped away to talk privately with him. “Thanks for this by the way.”

Shayne grinned despite knowing the other couldn't see it. “No problem, I got my boys covered.” He unsheathed one of his kukri blades from the holsters at his waist and got to work. “Besides I do owe you one.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to get him something for his birthday.”

“Well, I think he'll like this one.” Shayne broke the seal on the plastic case and eyed all the hard drives housed within with a smile. He picked one up and tossed it back and forth between his hands as he walked over to one of the filing cabinets. “Want me to gift wrap them while I'm at it?”

Tomato’s laughter came through his earpiece. “Nah, just get me a few good pics of the blaze. A picture is worth a thousand words after all.”

“Fuck yeah, blaze it.” Shayne’s grin turned sharp, lowering his backpack to the ground. He opened each drawer and pulled out arm fulls of files and piled them in the centre of the room. Once all of the papers were in a nice big pile, he retrieved a small flask from his back pocket and poured the liquid over the confidential documents.

He lifted his camera up and flipped it to take a picture of himself while lighting up the pile next to him with his lighter. He continued to take pictures, as the blaze lit up from the gasoline and struck a few poses. Once that was done, Shayne got up from his crouched position and poured all the hard drives from the plastic box into his backpack. He took one last picture of the raising fire from outside the unit before turning and heading back to the truck.

***

The truck Bed was driving was much bigger than one he was used to. With dave’s vehicle, it was bulky but made for going fast and crashing into thing. This truck was simply build for carrying large loads of items, in this case it was all of Strippin’s confiscated goods. A big vehicle though meant he didn’t have to make tight turns or go fast. He could take things at his own pace and go as slow as he wanted.

Unfortunately, taking his time meant he had a lot of time to think instead of acting. Being alone meant he was left alone to the image of Criken pulling Tomato into a passionate kiss right in front of him. Having no one around to hear him, gave him to opportunity to snarl and punch the steering wheel as he recalled how the other man reciprocated. Being on a mission at the moment meant he couldn’t act on all those thoughts though. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss or punch that look off Criken’s face, the one he gave him in the club. It was like he knew just how he felt about the situation between Tomato and him.

Bed stopped at the next set of lights and leaned his weight on the steering wheel, head tilted downwards. He played with the thick silver ring on his thumb, occasionally tugging in the small metal bead that attached to the garrott wire hidden within. The tugging made satisfying whirring noises as he waited for the next green light and took a breath to calm his nerves. He pulled the wire a few inches away from the ring before letting it snap back into place with a metal zip.

The light turned green and Bed pressed his foot to the gas before the screeching of tires had him slamming on the brakes. Two sports cars had raced across the intersection in front of him and spun till they faced in his direction. The tires had left black streaks on the pavement as they sudden braked and the road was deathly silent. Bed felt a nervous itch at the back of his head and his eyes widened as a realization hit him. It was an ambush. He immediately rose a hand up to his earpiece to connect with Criken and Tomato, who he knew was on the other side.

“Jared…. I..” Was all he managed to get out before he heard the sound of two more cars coming up from behind.

The sounds of gunfire echoed in the air and was picked up on the mic as glass shattered and metal gave way to the bullets.

“Bed? Bed!?!”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to say I'm sorry for this chapter but.. honestly, I've been sitting on this for so long, I'm just glad to not be the only one suffering anymore. You know what they say about misery...


	14. Screaming at the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stage 1: Steal truck of Strippin's goods
> 
> Step 2: ??
> 
> Step 3: PROFIT!

***

After Shayne was finished with the business he had to tend to for Tomato, he came back to the main storage location to find it half cleared and the dead guard now in body bags. Crates of goods were being carted up the trucks ramp at an efficient speed by the two bunny masked men.

“Three minutes left. How are we doing?” Shayne peeked in to the storage unit and was pleased to see that a few mismatched crates were all that was left.

One of the men, his right hand assistant on the field, offered a salute as he spoke. “Good. I'm actually surprised with how much stuff is here. Like, a lot of it is mixed up still. I guess the Feds were too flabbergasted with the way he transports good to really figure out a good means of organization.”

Shayne gave a whistle and stopped one of his boys rolling a cart with some boxes piled up to shoulder height. He stopped him from passing by with a hand to his chest and twirled one of his blades from the holster. “Heh, he’s still putting shit inside of shit in more shit.” He hummed, slipped the blade under the lid of the top box to break the seal.

True to his words, the box was filled with styrofoam peanuts and brushing the top layer away revealed a row of factory new sniper suppressors. He lifted one out of the box and tilted it forward so the hidden package that had been rolled up into it would fall into his palm. Shayne lowered the armament back into the box, only giving a acknowledging glance at the rows of wax wrapped packages used as stuffing in the crate. “Heh, drugs in guns in a box full of drugs. Strippin is one loose cannon.”

He slid the rolled up package into the chest pocket of his right hand man's waistcoat and gave a coy wink at the man. “Consider it a tip, my man.” His playful words were brushed off with a shake of the head and he rolled the last of the carts up the ramp and into the truck.

“Thank you sir.”

“Alright, clear out. This place will be crawling with blue bloods in no time.” Shayne eyed Charborg in the distance as he shoved the last body into the back of his ambulance and laughed. “No evidence, right Char?”

The man in question made a distracted noise in the back of his throat, still in the process of slamming the back doors shut. He was humming to himself and looked to be making a headcount on his fingers. Once he was at Shayne’s side, he tilted his head at the man. “Right. Whatever you said… What did you say?”

“No evidence.” Shayne gave him a whack to the chest.

Charborg bristled at that and pouted, lifting a hand in front of his face protectively. He wiggled his fingers showing off the blue rubber gloves. “Unless your gloveless and jacking it in places you shouldn't be, there shouldn't be any evidence. ‘Should’ being the word.”

He gave Shayne a critical look and let a slow smile curl upon his lips. “You were gone for a quite a while. Anything I should know about.”

“Now that would certainly be telling. I can’t just give away all my secrets.” Shayne just laughed and folded his arms behind his back, walking backwards away from Charborg with a gleeful expression. He teetered back and forth at the waist like a child. “But hey, if you need some help with it, I can give you some pointers later.”

Charborg gave him a mocking disgusted look and coughed into his fist. “And piss off Zyke even more? No thanks.”

“Whatever. You know where to find me.” Shayne threw over his shoulder as he hopped into the passenger side of the delivery truck, tossing the bolt cutters between the two seats. “Punch it.”

The driver shifted into gear and they drove to the front gate, the ambulance following close behind. Shayne hopped out and entered the booth, seeing the body now gone from where he had left it last. “Charborg moves fast.” He whistles while approaching the console just as his earpiece buzzed to life.

“Shayne, you have no time. You need to be out of there now.” The urgency in Criken’s voice was something he wasn't used to hearing and he cursed under his breath, hitting the gate switch before dashing back to the car.

***

Bed could feel the metal of the hood buckling from the barrage of bullets and threw his body down to lay across the driver and passenger seat. He gritted his teeth at the pain that blossomed at his chest. Luckily the Kevlar took the bullet but the impact alone was going to leave one last bruise in its wake. He ducked down and listened as the federal agents behind him began shouting and firing back. In his panic, he had lost his grip on his earpiece and it fell out during the commotion, getting lost somewhere among the glass at the bottom of the truck.

“Fuck.” Bed growled, blindly reaching up to grab ahold of the steering wheel. He was in a precarious situation and had to get away from appeared to be an all out war going on. He slammed a foot down on the gas and didn't stop till he heard a heavy crunch from the crash.

The sports car in front of him was very low to the ground so Bed’s truck rolled nicely over the hood before continuing in a wide turn. He blindly drove on the road, taking out two road signs on his way as he did so. Only once he was sure he was safely away from the numerous gunmen, did he stuck his head up and eyeball the road ahead.

Bed could hear the gunfire slowly getting further and further away as the agents provided enough of a decoy for him to slip away. He was having a hard time controlling the vehicle as someone had shot out one of the tires and felt himself flinch as his cellphone vibrated in his pocket.

He was flustered as he saw the name displayed in it. Tomato juice. Bed coughed into his fist and answered the phone with a quiet ‘hey’. He balancing the device between shoulder and ear as he returned both hands to the steering wheel.

“Bed.. Oh god, are you okay? Are you injured?!” Tomato’s frantic voice came through loud in clear and brought a small smile to Bed’s lips. He knew it wasn't the right time to be happy but knowing that the man worried about him so much made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah I’m uninjured. I'm just- Fuck!” Bed’s body was thrown forward as something impacted the back of his truck. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see a more heavy duty vehicle duck just out of view, hidden behind his truck. “I was intercepted on my drive and now.. Fuck, I’ve got a tail and they're not letting up.”

“I can see that. You've got two, three.. No, are you seeing this Criken? Where are they coming from?” The last part of Tomato’s rambling was obviously directed to the other hacker but Bed could hear the gears turning as all three of them reached the same conclusion.

“Outlander.” Bed spat the name out like it was disgusting poison and kicked the truck into gear, desperate to put some more space between him at the men tailing him. “He’s fucking hitting the trucks too.”

He could hear Tomato snarl under his breath and there was a shuffle of material like he was trying to cover the mic but he could still hear him faintly. “This is no longer just a coincidence. If we ever needed confirmation, well, this is a fucking fantastic one.”

A rat. Bed didn't hear the word but know it was heavily implied by the way his voice dropped into that dangerous tone. The man hated rats almost as much as he hated people.

There was another shuffle and suddenly Criken was on the phone. His voice barely concealing the frantic way his spoke, trying to convey information without letting his emotions take hold. “I have two units on route to you but if they don’t make it to you before the bridge, we’ll have to cut our losses with the truck. You’re more important than a handful of guns. So you need to hightail it out of there first chance you got.”

Something about the way Criken spoke hit him. The man sounded on the brink of desperation. Perhaps he had misjudged the way the man had felt about him? “I have an idea but you're probably not going to like it.”

There was a brief pause before he heard a determined ‘do it’ from Criken. He was surprised. There were no questions or suspicions. He just trusted him to know what to do. That was high praise coming from the calculating hacker.

Tomato added to the conversation. “They are a block away. Go between their bikes.”

“Bikes?” Bed rose a brow as he came up to the bridge and sure enough, speeding towards him were two dirt bikes. They wove in and out of the stalled traffic and buzzed past his truck without a second glance. Their helmets hid their identity and the only thing giving away their allegiance to Sideshow was the large white rabbit printed on the backs of their leather jackets.

He watched as both bikes passed by Outlander’s trucks and they began to casually toss metallic devices that magnetically stuck to the side doors and windows. Without so much as a pause, they continued down the long stretch of street and turned towards where the initial ambush had taken place.

Bed was sure if he could see through the tinted windows, he'd see panic on the driver's face. But as it stood, he saw nothing but the flicker of a red light as the devices activated and they detonated, shredding into the sides of the vehicles with their explosion. The tires squealed painfully loud and one of the trucks wobbled several times before hitting the guard railing of the bridge. It went up and over, metal on concrete screeching and causing sparks before it plummeted into the dark water below.

“There too much traffic on the bridge. I won’t be able to get this back in one piece. I need to ditch the truck and go.” Bed called into the phone, grabbing the emergency crowbar stored behind the driver seat and jammed it between the gas pedal and steering wheel. He heard the truck revv up as it was pushed to its limits. “Tell Strippin I said sorry.”

With that, he closed the phone and stored it inside his boot. It was probably the safest place to keep it while throwing himself out of a moving vehicle. Bed braced himself and closed his eyes as he opened the door. He took a deep breath and felt the adrenaline hitting him as he opened them again. A smirk replaced the shaky look he had been wearing earlier as he feel back into that confident state.

“Heh, Same shit as usual.” And he exited the vehicle, calculating the road and his still healing wounds. He’ll definitely come out of these with several scraps and bruises. The upside however was that he could choose which part he wanted to take the brunt of the landing. Falling back on years of experience had him curling up and taking most the injuries to his arms and legs.

After several rotations, he finally slowed up and stopped just before a motorcyclist hit him. The driver gave him a frightened look and Bed looked up through dark locks, determined and gritting through his teeth. He was more than happy that he wore that Kevlar vest under the driver's uniform. He approached the driver and gave him a pained look.

“Holy shit! Are-are you okay man?” The driver asked, fear for the others wellbeing in his eyes. He seemed to take note of the torn fabric, exposing the vest underneath that already had two bullets nuzzled in it.

“Never better. Could use a ride though.”

The man was already drawing out his phone from his pocket to call emergency services when it was torn from his grasp. Bed used the momentum of the grab to elbow the rider in the jugular and send him off the motorcycle.

“Nice bike.” Bed whistled, gliding his hand over the gloss of the surface. He gave the gasping man on the ground a second glance and looked over his shoulder. There were witnesses but he didn't have time to deal with all of them. He hopped on the motorcycle and gave it a revv, smiling at the way it purred. “A very nice bike.”

Without another word, he took off between the cars and weaved in and out between the streets like hell on wheels. Bed rode off and disappeared into the night.

***

Shayne and his driver were just leaving the storage unit when they got word of the ambush from Criken. He had to give props to the man later for managing to maintain his cool despite everything going to hell so quickly. He made a waving point forwards and his driver hit the gas without another word. His other hand was pressed to his earpiece and he cursed. “Fuck. How much tim-”

“Twenty seconds ago.” Just as those words fell from his lips, he saw the flashing lights coming around the corner. A dozen cars were coming right at them, sirens clearing the traffic in the way between them. The distance was closing alarmingly fast.

“Shit shit…” Shayne slammed his hand on the back wall between the cargo hold and the front. “Buckle up back there boys, this rides going to be a bumpy one.”

He could hear Tomato cursing in the background as Criken’s voice fell back into that cold, analytical tone that he only used during emergencies. “Shayne, stay on route. Do not divert for anything! This timer has just been cut in half. Charborg, give me some good news her-” Criken continued to speak, not realizing he left the mic open but Shayne had already droned him out, focused on doing his part.

He had his own orders and that was good enough for him but they were also driving a cargo van that was riding low with the weight of contraband and that made him nervous. There was no way they would be able to outrace the cops quickly gaining on them. No, there was no way they would be able to break their tail unless they had a good distraction and a way to break line of sight. His driver looked at him, hardened from years of driving for Shayne but with a hint of underlined panic in his eyes.

“Stay on course.” Shayne grit his teeth and grabbed the handle at the roof to stabilize himself as a cop tried to slam them into a tailspin. “Fuck! Keep going. I swear to god, Criken better have a fucking way of dealing with this or I'm going to ring his time obsessed neck.”

He glanced in the rear view mirror to see Charborg taking his affirmed turn at the last set of lights, half of the cars turning after him. Being in a refurbished ambulance meant he had the horsepower to get himself out of the situation so Shayne wasn't worried about their resident doctor. The man was a damn good driver too. If anyone would get out of this, it'd be him.

“Next set of lights, take the right.” Shayne pointed it out despite his driver already knowing the route off by heart. They had drilled it enough times before putting their practise into play. The man at the wheel grit his teeth and braced as another cop rammed into the back of their truck, causing it to spin off track for a moment before he took control again. “Fucking assholes!”

Shayne kicked up his feet and braced them against the glove compartment and turned to hook a hand under his jacket. He retrieved one of his pistols after struggling with the holster, clicking the safety off. His driver gave him a wide eyed worried look at the shark like grin on his face.

“What the fuck are you looking at? Keep your eyes on the road man. Ah fuck!” He yelled out with a waving indication of his hand. There was another slam into the back of the truck and Shayne rolled down the window to stick his hand out. “Objects in mirror are further than they appear, my ass.”

He unloaded shot after shot into the driver's side of the vehicle and was only satisfied when it spun out to the heavy sound of brakes being slammed. The gun clicked in his hand and he pulled his arm back in, reholstering it under his suit jacket. “Are we there yet?” He bemoaned, tapped the earpiece to get Criken's attention again.

“Almost. Just turn at Victorian Ave and-”

Shots suddenly rang out from the street, cutting off his words as the sound of heavy automatic fire filled the air. Shayne was thrown backwards as the car took a sharp right and braked suddenly. His legs ended up above him, kicking at the air and he let out a yell, unable to see over the dashboard. “Is that us?!? Is that one of ours??!”

The gunfire continued for a brief moment longer before it suddenly stopped. The sound of shells hitting the ground ceased and in that deathly quiet moment, a car horn sounded to the tune of ‘Flight of the Valkyries’. Shayne let out an almost hysterical laugh. “Holy shit, is that Dave?”

Shayne sat back up and glanced over at the large green humvee slowly pulling up beside them. Sticking out of the back passenger window was the rotating barrel of a large mini gun. Steam was raising off the cooling metal.

“Hello!” Dave’s voice came from Shayne’s earpiece and the driver's side of the vehicle. “Thought you could use a hand and I just so happened to be in the area.”

“Just so happened to be in the area with Boon and huge fuck off gun.”

Boon made an indignant noise in the backseat and hissed as he touched the still hot metal of the gun, moving it out of his view. “We ride together, we die together. Bad boys for life.”

“Guys, can I get you back on the clock please…” Criken's voice came through all all their earpieces, his voice strained in barely contained frustration. “Shayne, I needed you back here like thirty seconds ago. I'm not losing the other truck because you decided to wander.”

“Other truck? Damn what happened to the first one?” Criken’s voice had clicked out leaving no room for debate and Shayne shrugged at that. “Fine, be that way.”

Dave sighed and reached a hand up and out the window to wave over the hood of the car at Shayne as they drove off again. “It seems fate has drawn us apart yet again. Till next time.” Boon could be heard howling like a wolf even as they turned the next corner and disappeared deeper into the city.

“Gee, what a guy.” Shayne sighed dreamily, smacking his driver playfully on the shoulder indicating that he could start moving again. They followed the rest of the route unhindered for the most part as the rest of the cars that had been following them were now reduced to smouldering, bullet filled messes. Boon and Dave made one hell of a team when they needed to clear a path.

They arrived at Garrott with no more issues from the police and backed up the truck into the plant. Despite knowing his part in the plan was done, Shayne still offered his assistance. “We’re here safe and sound. Need me out there pulling aggro off our boy?”

He was surprised when Tomato’s voice crackled over the radio. “Bed is safe so don't worry about him. Just stay put for now. I don't want anymore of the boys running out there while Outlander is creeping about.”

“Outlander? But how..”

Tomato let out a sigh. “I'll explain it all in detail later. Trust me. I don't want Zyke shooting me cause I gave you the go ahead to run amuck. Just stay put.”

Shayne pouted at his driver who returned the look with a snicker. As soon as he laughed, he went straight faced at Shayne’s look of disbelief. “Oh, you think your pretty funny eh?”

He opened the passenger door and stepped out, pointing back at his driver. “No raise for you.” He yelled jokingly.

“Whatever you say sir.” The man behind the wheel nodded knowing that the threat was all in good fun. He hopped out of the vehicle as well and smiled as Shayne clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, another successful mission. Shall we open up and see what we got?” Shayne put a hand on the door leading to the truck’s storage and rose an eyebrow. He waited a half second for a nod before lifted it up with a metal noise.

“What have we here..”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate cliffhangers so here's a quick update on the Bed situation. I didn't want to leave you all thinking I'd kill the best boy right? ;) Maybe later..
> 
> Man, it's taking longer to get to Strippin's break out then I thought but at least stage one is complete.


	15. Easier said than done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideshow has a place for everything. They own several places were their more illicit activities take place. Garrott is one of such locations.

Charborg drove up the ramp leading into Garrott with his ambulance, honking twice as he did so to alert Shayne of his arrival. Once inside the truck loading facility, he backed up into a designated corner and parked. He glanced up while removing the key from the ignition to see Shayne practically skipping over with an M-16 in his grasp.

“Oh boy, here we go.” He mumbled to himself while opening the door. Once Shayne was close enough, his rose his voice. “Hey, does Benji know your already laying claim to some of Strippin’s equipment?”

Shayne glanced around in a suspicious manner and shrugged, trying hard to keep his expression straight faced. “Yes?”

“You don't sound too sure.”

Hiding the gun behind his back, Shayne tilted his head to the side and grinned, sounding more confident this time. “Of course he does!”

Charborg crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Whatever you say Shayne.” He passed by the man, whistling innocently as he did so and once he was close enough, he yanked the M-16 out of his grip with a playful ‘yoink!’.

“Hey, I stole that fair and sq- I mean, that's mine now. Finders keeper.” Shayne threw his hands up but didn't make an attempt to steal it back from the medic. He continued to complain as Charborg turned the gun this way and that in his hands, eying the filed off serial number that had been stamped along the underside of the barrel.

“Finders keepers.” The medic repeated. After a few seconds of inspection, Charborg tossed the gun back. He smirked at the little ‘oof’ he received from the other man. “Aren't you a deagle man anyways?”

“That doesn't mean I can't appreciate the finer things in life. Especially once they’re added to my collection and put up on my wall for me to look at and appraise.”

“Man, if you consider an M-16 a finer thing, I’d hate to see what your home looks like.” Charborg walked in the direction that Shayne had come from to see a bunch of people in purple running around with crates and clipboards. He had to give the man credit where credit was due. The man knew how to network and had quite the number of followers employed at all times. Not only that but they were efficient at what they did and made up a large bulk of the Sideshow’s ground forces.

Shayne shrugged at that and said nothing, his expression being self explanatory. He waved over a figure standing near the back of the truck with a clipboard and they quickly hustled over, giving him a respectful bow.

“Sir.” The suited man smoothed over his tie with a palm, straightening his back in a proud stance.

“Marcos, get a few of our more.. subtle peeps to clear out Charborg's truck. Have them put in cold storage for now.”

The man nodded again and snapped a finger at two women standing guard to the side of the moving truck. They looked up and without complaints, moved in the direction the Second in command pointed. The two began to pull out bodies and moved them one at a time to the back of the loading facility. “Anything else sir?”

“Yeah. How did we do?” Shayne inquired, one hand outstretched in a ‘gimme’ gesture. His Second in command gave him the clipboard and he flipped through the pages, taking note of all the additions made by the man in front of him. “Am I correct in assuming that we came out of there with more than we thought we would?”

“We’re still going through the crates as we speak so the numbers written there are what we have a face value. It's hard to keep everything concise since we found several boxes with false bottoms after we had already cleared them. They contained more… questionable equipment.” 

Shayne nodded as he spoke, getting more and more excited as he noted the high numbers of supplies on the list. “Yes yes, but what about our supplies? Do we have enough to make up for the demand that picked up in Strippin’s absence?”

“Plenty sir. The demand can be met and with the returns and re-establishment of the Sunrise Ave operation, the future has never looked brighter.”

Charborg approached and eyed the list over Shayne’s shoulder. “Already getting your operations back up and in working order? You got the Sunrise location back under our control rather quickly I noticed.”

Shayne’s expression soured as if recalling a rather unpleasant memory. “Don't remind me about those idiots. Can't believe they actually thought running on their own was a smart thing to do.”

“So they really were operating on their own? I figured Outlander would have had a hand in that.”

Shayne quickly took a picture of the notes on the clipboard before handing it back to his Second in command. “Keep at it and inform me of the new count when your done.” 

“Very good sir.” The man agreed with him and bowed before turning back to the truck that was still being unloaded. 

Once his Second in command was far enough away, Shayne wrapped an arm around Charborg and ushered him with gentle pushes in a direction away from the rest of his workers. Obviously he wanted to continue the conversation away from other ears.

“What is it?” Charborg rose a brow as he redirected back to the ambulance. 

Shayne let him go to make a subtle motion with his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck and used that casual motion to glance behind them. Once he was sure that no one was around to listen in, he spoke but in a low tone. “Zyke and I tossed that place upside down before the cops got there. We didn't find anything out of the usual with the money or the equipment. Hell, from an outside perspective it would seem like that is the case. But then.. we found this.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced something that flashed gold. He placed it into Charborg’s hand and closed his fingers around it before he could get a good look at it. “Take it to Criken. He needs to know about this.”

Charborg nodded and noted the look on Shaynes face. “You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah.. Don't worry about me. You should be more worried about the others. I got things covered here.”

Charborg paused but a hand patting at his shoulder, pressured him to leave. “Alright. If you insist. But don't you do anything stupid, you hear me?” 

“Hey, it's me.” Shayne laughed. He closed the door for the other man once he got into the ambulance and waited till he rolled down the window before continuing. “I'm always doing stupid shit.”

Charborg just rolled his eyes and smiled. “Right then. I'll see you back at the club?”

“Yeah you owe me a round of pool, my man.” Shayne gave the hood of the vehicle a nice pat and rose his hand up in a salute as the doctor backed out of the loading facility.

Only once Charborg was a block away, did he finally unclench his fist around the small item that had been given to him earlier. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the emblem printed on the gold cufflink.

A thistle flower.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, let's get the ball rolling again. Consider this the end of Act 1.
> 
> I'll also be randomly throwing in names until people wishes to have theirs included in the future.


	16. More to this tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They thought they had him hook, line and sinker. They thought once they slammed the door and threw away the key, they'd be done with him.
> 
> They were wrong.

***

Three days had passed uneventfully since Sideshow raided the Fed’s storage of confiscated goods. Despite the ambush by Outlander and the loss of one of the trucks during the raid, they all made it out alive and well. It was time to move onto the next phase of their plan. Strippin had been thrown into the Toujour’s Prison, one of the oldest but well renowned prisons in the city. It wasn’t maximum security by any shot but then again, the police had only caught Strippin’ illegally moving product around the city, not straight up killing people. They thought he was just a low player in the game.

Strippin’ had been given an opportunity to come forth and provide information to their agency in return for a shorter sentence and a comfy cell away from other prisoners. A new initiate to Sideshow would pull a nonchalant attitude and refuse to give up any intel, desperate to prove that they aren’t snitches in the eyes of the group. Strippin’ on the other hand, wasn’t what he called a ‘beta bitch’ and decided to talk. He talked a lot.

He told them of the men who worked with Outlander, the area that he suspected was his base of operation and details regarding the gear they used and the incidents they had been apart of and covered up. He could write a book about how much the mysterious mans group had gotten in the way of his innocent transport operation and he did eventually fill out pages of notes for the agents, giving them more than enough information to have them granting him the deal that they offered.

Now he was sitting in a cozy cell, isolated away from the other prisoners except for food and yard time. Most people would assume it was to protect him from everyone else but it was exactly the opposite. Strippin’ put two guys in the intensive care unit after they tried to jump him and the guards that were escorting him back to his cell. He was applauded by the guards for stepping in and protecting their own during that riot and was always referred to as the model prisoner, reminding everyone that he had a family and he just wanted to go out and be with them again.

Of course, he would say that knowing that he wouldn’t be there to serve his full sentence. A rumour had passed through the grapevine from a few members of the Cat Gang while he was incarcerated. They said that Sideshow was making a move soon to bust him free from his imprisonment and that brought a grin to his face.

Strippin’ was quiet as he was being walked up to his cell. He was prepared to be locked up for the evening but a contemplative expression found its way on his face. something felt different in the air. There were no changes to the guard rotation and there was nothing strange to be heard but he felt something shift in the atmosphere.

“Step inside the cell and face the back wall.” The guard ordered with a point of his hand. Despite the man being behind Strippin’ for the most part and that his face was tilted downwards, his tone sounded strangely familiar to him.

When the man walked him into the cell, he was intrigued to see that a nicely wrapped present had been left on his bed. It was a wrapped in white paper with a red bow on top. His name had been written in gorgeous cursive on the tag. Strippin’ didn’t say a word but rose a brow as the guard undid the cuffs from behind. He waited till his hands were free completely before bringing a hand up to rub at the wrists.

“Consider it an early birthday gift.” The guard murmured and hung the handcuffs off his belt again. He stepped back out of the cell and called into his walkie talkie for the cell to be relocked. There was a loud buzz and the barred door slid back into place with a loud clunk, ensuring that Strippin’ was locked in his cell again.

Strippin’ waited until the sound of footsteps got far enough away before he sat on the bed and took the present onto his lap. His smirk got wider and wider as he unwrapped it, realization of what was inside slowly hitting him. He lifted the lid off the top of the box and ran his fingers over the soft material hidden within. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and lifted the smooth, silk tie out, running the fabric between his fingers. The sleek feeling and the smell of the material brought back so many memories.

_He could practically feel the arms around his shoulders, hugging him from behind as they did the tie around his neck. Delicate fingers looped the material expertly and pulled it nice and snug around his neck. He felt the warm breath next to him and turned his head, kissing her before she could slip away from him. Dodger let out that laugh that had his heart soaring and she walked to stand in front of him, allowing herself to be pulled back into his arms. They kissed like the world didn’t matter. Like he didn’t have a meeting with Sideshow to attend to. It was just the two of them._

He lovingly laid the tie on the bed next to him and pulled out the next item in the box. Just as his fingers met cotton, the lights throughout the entire facility flickered once before completely shutting off. The hum of power that was a constant within the prison was gone, leaving the entire building in a unfamiliar silence. He pulled the rest of the suit out and laid it out, his fingers remaining on the familiar shaped clip.

Strippin’ waited a heartbeat before letting his eyes flutter open, more adjusted to the dark. The smirk on his face turned sharp as he heard panic begin to spread among the guards stationed around the facility. He crossed one leg over the other and began to get changed out of of his prison uniform, his movements slow and measured even as the yelling picked up.

***

Within the Darkroom, sat various members of Sideshow. They had gathered in the middle of the night and we’re putting the final touches on their next state of business. Tomato was running the administrative half of their operation while Criken was going over blueprints and available personnel. Lawlman and Zyke were preparing various equipment to bring on site and Shayne was providing colourful commentary. They had another member within the room that hadn’t been seen in their midst in a long time.

Tomato had two criminal files open, one with a picture of Zyke and the other one had Lawlman. His fingers were typing lightning fast as he forged the various documents needed, listening to Criken as he pointed out various details.

“It needs to be serious enough that they both get redirected from the courthouse to the prison without any questions.”

“Yeah, your gonna have to give me a second. It’s not exactly easy to bypass all those judicial layers. I have to forge a full case log detailing a crime that didn't even happen and make it seem real enough that they don't question two men suddenly popping up in their system.”

Shayne let out a billow of smoke from between his teeth, his mouth set in a grin. “You should make Zyke a prostitute.” He was flipping through various messages sent to him from his various operations in the city.

The man in question smacked upside the back of his head and rolled his eyes. “Prostitution doesn't get one thrown into that kind of prison. But you would know that, wouldn't you?”

Lawlman laughed and whistled from across the room. He had various pieces of equipment laid out on the table and was pointing out various things that would need to be brought along to Flimsii. “Shots fired.”

“You must think your funny. This coming from a man who’ll be hanging out in prison with Bubba in a few days.” Shayne called back. He tapped the ash of his cigarillo into the tray as he spoke.

Flimsii cleared his throat to redirect Lawlman’s attention back to what they had been discussing before the others interruption. “Alright, tell me again what the thermals are for?”

He was a tall figure of a man that wasn't usually seen within the walls of the clubroom but his wife running the bordellos gave him the perfect cover to move around without being bothered. That, and the fact that he was cop. He leaned forward in his seat and eyeballed several sets of cuffs and weaponry, picking up a small explosive and held it up to the light.

“Are you sure your going to need ALL of this?” He rose a brow at Lawlman who just returned the look with an innocent smile. “No really, give me a reason why you need eight sets of handcuffs in prison and I’ll let you bring them.”

“Hey if I’m going to prison. I want to be prepared for any situation.”

Shayne leaned his head back and grinned, following the trail of smoke as it rose from his cigarillo to the ceiling with his eyes. “And yet he didn't even pack lube.”

“Look, if shit goes down. Zyke and I will need to have as much gear at our disposal as we can possible get.” Lawlman batted away Flimsii’ hand as he swayed one of the handcuffs in front of his face.

“Eight handcuffs…”

Lawlman threw his hands up in the air in a fit before pointing at Flimsii. “And I better see every one of them in the stash when we’re there.” His voice got deeper in indignation.

Zyke sighed. “He's right. Once we’re in there, we’re in there for the long haul. We’ll need everything at our disposal.”

“I know.. I know.” Flimsii scratched under his chin and nodded. He paused for a long moment as if deep in thought before continuing. “Alright. Pack this all up and I’ll take it with me on the way out.”

Lawlman smirked and rubbed his hands together in a devious gesture before offering his hand in a shake. “Thanks man. I knew you'd see it our way.”

“Your lucky I like you guys so much.” Flimsii returned the handshake before standing up with a stretch. He rolled his shoulders and pulled at his jacket, making sure the material covered the badge at his waist. Passing by the couch, he gave Tomato a pat on the shoulder on his way to the bar. “I need a drink. Let me know when your ready.”

Tomato nodded distractedly but didn't take his eyes off the screen as he filled out a toxicology report. “Fuck, this would be so much easier if Charborg was here. He knows all that official jargon they use. Whatever, it’ll be bareboned but it’ll work for what we need.”

“Don’t worry about the fluff. It doesn't need to look pretty. My worm will devour most of evidence we leave behind after all.” Criken crossed one leg over the other as he flipped through a manual on the electrical workings of the prison. Toujours Prison was one of the oldest in the city and because of that, most of the blueprints and maintenance details were in physical form.

Tomato looked up at him over the laptop with ceased brows and a tired look in his eyes. “Most evidence..” He trailed off with a frown.

“It's like Code Red but more isolated. In order for it to work properly, I had to ensure it will stay in the enclosure I put it into. It won’t eat its way out but.. Well, you know that these type of virus’ are finicky to work with.” Criken flicked to another chapter and flattened a palm over the diagram, smoothing down the old page. “Ah hah, finally.”

Zyke hovered behind Criken’s seat and propped his chin up with his hands. His elbows were pressed to the couch as he leaned over. “Did you finally find the blueprints?”

“Even better. I found that and the electrical layout. Noted, this is apparently five years old so there have definitely been some changes over the years but, this is a good place to start.” Criken lifted the book up to give him a better look at the lines and icons printed on the page.

“What's the E symbol stand for?” Zyke inquired with a tilt of his head. He blew his blonde bangs out of his face with a huff of breath.

“Elevator.”

Zyke shook his head and pointed at the page. “No no, this one. The triangle with the comic sans E.”

Criken paused for a moment as he flipped to the index before looking back at the diagram. After a few times of repeating of that motion, he looked up at the rifleman with a confused look that suddenly turned into one of barely concealed elation. “Zyke, you brilliant bastard.” He deadpanned, still schooling his expression despite his excitement.

“Why thank you. What did this brilliant bastard do?” Zyke puffed up in pride and grinned, looking around the room as he was validated for his comment.

“You found the emergency electrical shut down.” Criken responded slowly. He could see the other man getting more and more excited as he realized how important of a find he had made.

Zyke jumped up from his comfortable position and clapped his hands once, pointing at Shayne with a shit eating grin on his face. “I totally meant to do that.”

Tomato snorted at that but said nothing.

***

The prison guards awaited for the last three prisoners to be brought out to their truck with the boredom of people who have been doing to same thing over and over again. They watched as three men in orange jumpsuits were led out, all of them cuffed and strung together by a long chain. “These the last three?”

“Yep. They’re all yours.” The court guard nodded as he led them by the grip on the first prisoners shoulder towards the side of the truck. He opened the door and unlocked the caged portion before pressing them forward. “In you go now.”

As they were crawling into the court truck, one of the men handed a digital tablet to the prison guards. “I need your signature and we’re good to go.”

“Right.” He signed the digital document with a quick flick of the pen and nodded as he offered the tablet back. “Well, looks like it’s about beer o’clock for us. I almost feel bad, you guys are still on shift.”

“Not for long. We’re only on for another hour.” The man tucked the device into the front of the court transport and hopped into the driver seat. “Want to hit the Black bear for a few drinks after?”

“Sounds good to me.” The court guard gave the hood of the vehicle a pat and stepped out of the way, a hand raised in a salute.

The other transport guard made sure the cage and door was locked before sliding into the passenger seat. He could hear some sort of arguing going on in the back with the prisoners and huffed a breath, turning up the radio to cover the noise. “Of course we get a rowdy bunch as our last delivery.”

In the back of the court transport, Lawlman was sitting there with one leg crossed over the other. He looked down at his cuffed hands and lifted them up till they made a jingle. The chain attached to the cuffs where the only thing keep him, Zyke, and one other unaffiliated prisoner connected while in the back of the transport. They had decided earlier on in the planning phase that having a random person as their third prisoner would make things easier for them but right now, the unaffiliated man was making things really hard for them.

“-yeah, you know better than to open your mouth. I’d fuck you up in a heartbeat.” The man continued to howl at Zyke. His hands were cuffed in front of him as well but that didn’t stop him from driving his elbow into Zyke. He kept shoving into him, egging the hitman into some sort of conflict.

Lawlman looked over at Zyke, noting how patient the other was being. It was quite impressive to say the least. If he were in his position, he probably would have lost his mind and snapped the man’s neck. But seeing as how they were on a mission right now, they didn’t have the benefit to messing up even in the slightest.

“A little bitch like you. You better hope you make some good friends in there. Otherwise I’m going to-”

Zyke looked up at the man and tilted his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips at the rambling prisoner. He could tell the man was getting more frustrated at the lack of reaction he was getting in response. It was amusing to say the least.

“Hey, are you even listening to me? Hey! I said- Ummgh!” The man’s words were cut off as a tug on the chain had him reeling forward. Before he could say anything else, an arm enraptured his neck and pulled him back into Lawlman’s chest. The cuffs pressed hard against the prisoner’s throat and Lawlman kept a grip until he was sure that he was unconscious.

“Go to sleep idiot.” Lawlman growled, unhooking his arms from around the man’s neck. He let go and watched him flop forward, unconscious but still alive. He gave the man a shoulder bump and grinned at Zyke’s pissed off expression now that he had a lapful of some asshole.

Zyke frowned and shoved the man back in Lawlman’s direction. “I swear to god, you put that guy on me and I will hit you when we’re finished with this.”

The other hitman grinned cheekily, pushing back with a devious look in his eyes. He elbowed the man back into Zyke’s lap. “You hit like a girl, I can take it.”

“Don’t let Bree hear that.” Zyke laughed despite himself, Grabbing a handful of the prisoners shirt to lift him off of him. He forced him back onto Lawlman and then turned himself so his back was facing him, one foot up to brace himself for another push.

Lawlman was about to argue and push back again when the truck hit their brakes hard. He paused and looked over at the other man. After a few long glances, they nodded and pressed their head to the metal enclosure around them. There was conversation taking place in the front seat and the radio was shut off suddenly, making it easier to pick up on parts of their conversation.

“-round the back.” They could hear one of the guards murmur just before the sound of a walkie talkie filled the air.

The blonde hitman picked at his fingernails as he listened in, a look of disdain on his face. “Sounds like we’ve arrived.”

“Yeah, let’s hope they don’t wonder why this idiot is out cold.” Lawlman eyeballed the ‘idiot’ seated between the two of them and began to laugh at the way the man’s head was lulled to the side like a drunk fool. He heard footsteps approaching the side of the truck and he stopped suddenly, straightening his face into a somber one.

“Here we go..” Zyke mumbled as keys scrapped in the lock. The door opened first revealing a woman and a man wearing prison guard outfits. The woman had a flashlight in her hand and was shining it into the vehicle, her other hand at her gun belt.

The man approached the door again and flipped through his ring, retrieving another key. “Prisoners, stay seated and keep your hands where we can see them. No sudden movements.” He unlocked the cage next and took in the three men seated within, a suspicious quirk in his brow.

“What happened here!” The woman standing a bit back pressed a hand to her radio and called for EMS. She kept her flashlight on the unconscious prisoner as her partner moved in to grab Zyke by the underarm.

“He fucking came at me. I was just defending myself.” Zyke complained, giving a convincing struggle before going limp in the guards grip.

“Take it nice and slow. First step here. Now on the ground.” The guard aided Zyke down the steps before going in to grab the middle man. “Shit, yeah. He’s out cold.”

The woman pressed a hand to Zyke’s chest and had him stand against the vehicle as she shined a light in his eyes. “You did this?”

“It was self defense ma’am.” Zyke replied, gaze at the ground.

A few other people wearing white and carrying a medic bag on a stretcher came around the corner and approached the prisoner crumbled on the ground.

The female guard didn’t seem to buy that and grabbed him by the collar, turning him around to face the truck. Once he was against the vehicle, she began to pat him down. “Your not going to cause any issues in the future, are you?”

“No ma’am..” Zyke murmured, cheek pressed to the metal of the transport.

By this point, Lawlman was now out of the vehicle and was being pat down as well. He gave Zyke a look in regards to their situation but said nothing till the guard had his hands off him.

“Sir, he did attack him first.” Lawlman implored at the rough handling Zyke was going through.

The guard stepped back and adjusted his gun belt with a suspicious gaze. “Prisoner, we’ll be the judge of that.” He grabbed Lawlman by the lapel of his jumpsuit and began to push him one handedly towards the front lobby. Once far enough away, he sneered into his ear. “If you want your stay to be nice and quiet, you'll quickly learn to keep your mouth shut and your eyes down.”

Lawlman frowned at that blatant abuse of power but said nothing. He wasn't here to start a war, he was here to get Strippin’.

While both members of Sideshow were being cleared, the EMS gathered up the unconscious prisoner on a stretcher and all personnel made their way into the prison. The gate they have driven through made a loud buzz as they were locked in.

There was no turning back now. Zyke and Lawlman’s only exit was the way they came in. If they got into any sort of trouble inside the prison, they were on their own. They would have to play it by ear and in a pinch, improvise. Lawlman took the moment as they were being led deeper within the facility to give the other hitman a subtle nod. Whatever happened next, at least they had each other to face it head on.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry for this but I'm taking a bit of a break after this chapter. I have some personal stuff going on in my life I have to deal with. I promise that I'll come back to this as soon as possible but right now I'm not in a good state of mind and I need to focus on that. I promise I'll return


	17. I am my own ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it's too late now, I remember everything... and how careless we could be.

***

“Close cell 1912.” The guard called into his walkie talkie. The door made a buzzing noise and it slid into place, locking Zyke inside the small room. “Sleep well. Orientation will be in the morning.”

Once the guard was sure that it was locked and the prisoner was secure, he began to walk back to the main hall with a whistle on his lips. His steps on the metal grating faded out the further he got till there was nothing but the sound of other cells being closed in the distance.

Zyke sat down on the bed and cringed at the hardness of the surface. Prison wasn't exactly his favourite past time. It brought back a lot of memories that he'd rather forget. But luckily he wasn't planning on staying for a long period of time. Him and Lawlman had two days to scout out the prison from the inside before their dead drop from Flimsii. Two days wasn't so bad. At least that was what he tried to tell himself.

No one else except for Criken and a few others knew about his time in prison. Sure, people assumed. But he never shared that info freely with others. People tend to think your less dependable of a hitman if you've been incarcerated or compromised. The only one he ever told had been Shayne. It hadn't exactly been shared under pleasant circumstances either. He had woke up and punched the other square in the face because fighting back was just second nature to him now.

Zyke flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, cringing as he recalled the bruise he had left behind. He would never be able to make amends to himself for hurting the other, even if it had been accidental. Even if Shayne did laugh it off and say it was alright. It wasn't alright.

He ran a hand through his blond locks and pulled the covers over himself to combat the chill. Grabbing the pillow, he tried fluffing it up as best as he could under his head. Any distraction was a good one. He could already feel the isolation eating away at him despite claiming he could take it just days ago.

Criken had asked him on multiple times if he was good to go in. That look he gave him seemed to look right through him, like he could see the very memories he was trying to hide from. Shayne seemed to be the one mostly against the idea of him going back to prison. Even going so far as to argue with him on the ride there. He promised he could take it and that he wouldn't get too frazzled. It's just two days, he promised. Shayne eventually let it slide but it was obvious that he wasn't happy with it.

Zyke huffed in frustration but after a few minutes of tossing and turning, he finally got into a comfortable enough position to fall into restless sleep.

***

He remembered the Rats Nest and how he had made a beeline there immediately after being released from prison. It had been years since he had this dream but being present outside of his body made it feel so much more real, like he was experiencing events in his life all over again. He could see himself as he walked, clothes barely hanging off his frame. His health had really suffered while he was locked away and it showed in his face.

Zyke felt like he was daydreaming state, walking behind what looked like a shadow of his former self, dark hair and eyes brimming with betrayal and anger. He was so young. He was so angry.

The two of them knew the route like the back of their hand and despite wanting nothing more to pretend that everything was going to be ok, they knew that wasn't the case. He had this dream so many times, he knew that he had to experience it to lock it back in place at the back of his mind. So despite his gnawing anxieties, he walked beside himself. 

The younger version of him crossed the intersection without so much as a glance around and approached an old looking apartment building. From the outside, it look genuinely unimpressive. One of the reasons why it had been chosen to house the Rats nest. He climbed a few seconds after himself and clamoured expertly onto the roof just as the dark haired Zyke was kicking down a door leading into what looked like a rooftop storage from the outside. It looked unused and the wooden walls and door was rotting from being exposed to the weather for so long. Because of that the old wood couldn't hold up against his steel toed boot and tore away from the hinges as Zyke forced his way back into the place he had once called home for the past several years. 

He stood outside and took a moment to look out from the rooftop as his old self continued to repeat the actions of his past and enter the Rats nest. The view had always seemed so breathtaking from up here. He had been so young, so easily impressed with the colours of the sky and the silhouette of the buildings in the distance. It seemed almost a lifetime ago he believed that this was the highest he could go. 

He smiled despite himself and walked in through the busted door. Years ago, he had expected to be in and out in an instance. He thought he could grab his belongings and disappear in the wind. Instead, he watched himself walk into the barrel of a shotgun aimed at him from deeper inside the Rats nest.

On the other end was Lucas. Small, short Lucas. The man had dark eyes and feral like features that matched his mousy brown hair and build. He had wild hair, the kind that stuck out in every direction and was untameable even with fell and hairspray. Ever the jumpy one, the man’s expression changed from anger at the sudden break in to realization as he recognized the man before him. The barrel lowered to the ground and he smiled, raising a brow at the bag slung over Zyke’s shoulder.

“Holy shit.. Daniel? My man, I haven't seen you in years.” Lucas laughed and extended out an arm to pull him into an embrace. After a moment of it not being returned, he sheepishly rose that hand up to scratch at the back of his head as if pretending that Daniel hadn't just left him hanging. “Yeah, its.. uh, it's good to see you.”

Lucas was a sight for sore eyes and Zyke felt bad for the cold shoulder that Daniel had given the other. The man was misguided but he had once been a friend. If only he had understood that at the time. Maybe he would have acted differently. Would he be a different person than he was today?

He watched Daniel and Lucas circle each other as they moved around the room. The other assassin turned to set the shotgun back onto a nearby table and ducked under a curtain of fabric that hide a room with a small cooler in the back. A few minutes of shuffling and he returned with two beers in hand. “Finally gave up the game and settled down?”

Zyke could practically taste the bile as he realized what he would have to do. He could taste the words he was about to say on his own tongue, he could feel the adrenaline thrumming through his veins again. This was one of his most painful memories and it was playing out before him like some sort of movie.

“So what are you doing here, besides kicking the door right in?” Lucas asked with a content smile. He looked the same from all those years ago and still had that bright eyed look that was unfitting for an assassin of his caliber. He was too open, too friendly, too blissfully ignorant. Too young.

Zyke couldn't read the expression that was on Daniels face but he could remember how he felt the first time he had gone through this series of events. He hadn't returned home to be welcomed back with open arms. Years of being locked away in prison had finally opened his eyes to the manipulative leader he once followed so blindly. And their leader never told Lucas and the others that he had been incarcerated. “I'm actually here to collect a few things.”

Lucas didn't even seem to notice that he hadn't taken a sip of his drink and did a quick turn to get a look around the rats nest. “Well, I think a few boys tried cracking that little puzzle box you have in the back but I don't think any of them got into it so your stuff should still be there.”

He saw Daniel tense up and walked over to him, wanted to rest a hand on his shoulders and tell him to remain calm. But what good would that do? He was just a passenger to these series of events that he couldn't stop. What was said and done and he couldn't take it back. All he could do was watch himself as anger settled on his features.

“Tried to get at my stuff? MY belongings?” Daniel tried to keep his calm and spoke through gritted teeth. At the slow nervous nod he received he passed by the other assassin and after a rough bump of his shoulder, kneeled before the carpet. “Man, its like you all forgot the code or something.”

“You were gone for a very long time. Can you blame them? You were the best of us and you just… decided to get up and leave.” Lucas was getting more irate and began clenching his free hand in agitation. Poor mousey Lucas. He was always quick to bark back even against the bigger dogs.

“Is that what he told you? God, you've always been so easy to convince.” Daniel gave him a long look before turning his attention back to the task at hand. He tore the carpet to the side to reveal the hidden hatch underneath. The metal front had the markings of someone trying to tamper with it but for the most part, it still looked like it held up. 

His self proclaimed ‘Pandora’s Box’ required a key, a code and a personal touch from him in order to open. Any attempts at trying to open it without all three parts done correctly would result in a high powered shock. Well, it would have done that years ago. Of course from how old it was and with the various wires sticking out, he had to accept the fact that the power to the box had been cut to keep it from shocking anymore people. 

Zyke stood over his own shoulder, watching him work while his back faced Lucas. He could conceal what he was doing to the other assassin but not himself. No one knew his lockbox better than him and a smile had come to his face as he watched Daniel go through the various steps, parts of the box making mechanical noises as he manually unlocked each corner. 

His younger self was more volatile than he was now and it was apparent with how he rolled his eyes and murmured to himself, purposefully loud enough for Lucas to hear. “Just how fucking gullible can you be, mouse?” He cringed at the way Daniel spit that nickname out. What was supposed to have a fun, playful meaning had suddenly become an insult. 

“What did you just say?!” 

“You heard me. Do you not remember Texas?” Daniel glanced over his shoulder and at the others inquisitive look, he continued. “You, me and Mitch went in there guns blazing. We knew that things would be tough, killing politicians usually is. But we also knew that at the end of the day, the chances of getting caught was low. Well, it was supposed to..”

“What.. are you saying?!” Lucas’ voice rose and the bottle made a loud thunk as he set it down onto the table. He was up on his feet and ready to defend his actions if necessary. Despite his anger and hesitation at the question, it was as if he already knew the answer and the look in his eyes confirmed it for him.

Zyke watched the two and glanced back and forth with a sad smile. “Oh Lucas.. You knew. You suspected the whole time but you just.. pretended. All of you did.” He spoke, despite knowing no one could hear him.

“What am I saying…” The younger Daniel trailed off, narrowing his gaze and focusing on the puzzle box in front of him. Once all four corners were unlocked, he removed the lid and set it down beside him. Dropping the empty bag onto the ground beside him, he seemed to pause at the sight of the too few items within. The amount of personal belongings he had owned back then was rather tiny. It was hard to believe his entire life's work had fit into one single box. He sighed and rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes, shoving various things into his duffle bag. “I'm done. Completely. I can't do this anymore for someone who sees us as nothing but expendable weapons.”

“I can't believe you!” Lucas started to approach but then seemed to think better of that and instead chose to pace. He only paused once to point a finger accusingly at Daniel. “After everything he did for us. After everything he gave to us! You just want to up and leave?!”

Zyke closed his eyes and said nothing. There was once a time that such words would have hurt him immensely. His younger self would have killed someone for daring to throw such accusations his way. But now, he felt nothing. He felt hollow. He knew what was coming next and waited for the calm before the storm to pass. His mouth curled and he mouthed Lucas’s words just as he spoke them.

“Whatever, leave then! We don't fucking need a coward who abandons their brothers on a whim. You disgust-”

Zyke watched himself jump up from his crouch and throw himself forward against Lucas, slamming him backwards into one of the old wooden walls with a forearm. Lucas had been prepared for an attack of sorts and he was faster than most.. But Daniel had always been faster. Dust fell down upon the both of them and the wall creaked in protest at the impact. Both men struggling against each other till Daniel grabbed him by the lapels and used that grip and momentum to pull him down into his knee.

Zyke heard a sickening crack and knew from the smirk on his younger versions face that he felt a dark ping of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach. He had broken something but instead of feeling pity, he continued to lay into him with another punch and finally one last crack of an elbow to his face. Lucas stumbled in his grasp and Daniel only let him go to let him stand again before shoving him crashing into the wall again.

“How fucking stupid are you? He abandoned us out there. What should have been an easy job turned into years of hell in the slammer for me.”

“Your lying..” Lucas staggered and grasped at the wall, balancing himself again it in order to stand upright. He looked up with watering eyes and a busted nose. His face was stained in blood and it ran down in rivets, dying his jacket front in red. He stumbled forward and grabbed at Daniel’s front, looking up with the guile of someone who had never been betrayed before. His eyes were big and round. He was hurting but he was still holding his ground. He didn't deserve such a brutal beating.

“Am I?” Daniel slapped the hand away without any effort and when Lucas tried for another weaker grab, he lifted him by the lapels and pinned him back against the wall again to enunciate his point. “What else did you expect was going to happen when the cops suddenly showed up?”

“He came back for us though. He-” Lucas stammered, his eyes downcast. He had all but given up on fighting and was now just sniffling, blearily blinking through tears.

“No.” Daniel cut in. “He came back for you. He left the rest of us to rot.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Mitch and I came out of there unscathed and he even complimented us for how well we had performed.” Lucas puffed up at that memory but only for a second before he was sucking in air through his teeth with a hiss. He let out that shuddering breath and looked back up at him, a painful realization could be seen in his eyes. “Oh god..”

Zyke watched himself pull back and let go of the other assassin. He could see it now. He could see the betrayal crossing his features and knew that Lucas understood as well. Or at least, he had some sort of an inclination of what their leader had done.

“He said..” Lucas took a deep breath before continuing. “He said you left. That now that you were gone, I had a more clear path to the top. I would be able to pick and choose my hits like you… I could lead-” He trailed off with another deep inhale and rose a hand to wipe a sleeve at the blood gathering under his chin.

The younger Zyke shook his head sadly. He walked back over to the hatch and shoved two rifles into the duffle bag. They were his favourites and he felt a small bit of pride swell up inside him at the sight of them. They were the first ones he had purchased and customized on his own.

“Daniel.. I'm sorry. I had no idea. I swear if I did, I would have done something, anyth-” Lucas let his legs give out beneath him and he slowly slid down to the ground, crumbling into a weak seated position. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them close to his chest.

Zyke stepped between the two figures as if his invisible presence would stop their arguing further. Years later and he now understood. He knew that Lucas wasn't fully to blame for what had happened. After all, the environment they worked in was supposed to be competitive. He could understand the other man's drive to be the best of all of them. But that gullibleness was what had caused him to turn a blind eye to their leaders manipulative means. Their leader had taken advantage of that desire and had warped it into blissful ignorance to the rest of their brothers.

On the other hand, at this point and time, Daniel didn't think of any of that. He felt betrayed and thought that if anyone had abandoned their brothers, it had been Lucas not him. He was young and wanted nothing to do with a fool who allowed themself to be tricked so easily. 

“Don't apologize to me and for fucks sake, stop making excuses. Just.. sit there and shut up.” He pointed at the other side of the room and felt a sick sense of humour at how easily the other man still listened to him. Lucas crawled weakly over to where he had pointed and sat there, cradling his broken nose. Lucas hadn't changed a bit. He was still so passive.

“I'm leaving. If you know what's good for you, you'll pretend you never saw me.”

“Never saw who?” A familiar voice called out from behind him.

Zyke felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he recognized the voice from behind him. Judging from the look on Lucas’ face and how tense Daniel went, his assumptions were correct. There was never room for doubt. Five years later and he could still hear that voice in his head.

It was him. The man who had left him in the hands of the cops. The leader of their band of merry assassins. The man that had seen him as an expendable asset. The man who taught him everything he knew only to let him down. Could he look him in the eye this time? 

Zyke felt everything around him slow down to a stop. Like pressing pause on a movie, even the specks of dust that had been disturbed had frozen, leaving a smoky trail hovering unmoving in the air. There were no noises, even the hum of electricity from the building had stopped. A pin could drop and Zyke would be able to hear it. Nervousness was eating away at him and he swallowed the bile down, turning to face the broken in doorway.

Suddenly he couldn't breath. It was like every bit of oxygen in his lungs had been frozen and squeezed out in a painful grasp. He couldn't think, he couldn't speak. All he could do was stand and stare at… nothing. He couldn't see him. There was nothing but a distortion where the man would have stood. It was like he couldn't comprehend the presence of the other, no matter how hard he focused.

“Please… I need to see this. I need to see this.” There was a weight upon him that forced him to one knee and then to both. Zyke looked up at the ceiling, his gaze getting duller as the pain ebbed away at him and he clawed at the wooden floor with dull nails. “Please!” He howled one last time. The weight on his shoulders grew heavier and heavier till it hit a crescendo with a loud bang.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my hiatus and ready to get back on the grind.


	18. Honour among inmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zyke knew how things worked in prison. Years later and he was still that compulsive young teen that had first picked up a gun and liked the weight of it in his hands.

***

 

Zyke shot up at that loud bang. He had practically thrown himself from the bed and almost went tumbling head first onto the floor in his desperation to wake up. His head whipped over in the direction of the bang and took note of the figure standing outside his cell. The sound had originated from the guard's stick on the bars and he watched the man hit them one more time.

“Get up, it’s orientation time.” The guard ordered and hung the billy stick off his belt again. He reached behind him and lifted a set of handcuffs. “Hands through the slot now.”

Zyke stood up from the bed and approached the bars. He nodded at the man's order and offered his hands through the slot, wrists extended to allow the man to cuff him. He knew the drill by now. Fighting with the guard, especially on day one wasn't a smart plan. He just had to hope that Lawlman would be at orientation with him.

Once the handcuffs clicked closed, the guard backed up and called into his walkie talkie for the cell to be opened. The door buzzed and slid to the side, allowing Zyke to step out into the catwalk and he was led by a hand at his shoulder away from the housing cells and towards the main hall.

After walking down a few twisting hallways, they ended up in a large white room with barred windows and fluorescent lights overhead. The room was filled with school desks and had a few other men in orange jumpsuits sitting around. They were all handcuffed but other than that, they were just milling about waiting for orientation to start.

Zyke glanced about as they walked in but didn't see Lawlman anywhere. It worried him, especially after the bad dream he had earlier. It had shaken him badly and despite claiming to Shayne that he was fine, he was feeling less confident. Especially since he alone in a room filled with people he didn’t recognize.

“Alright. Looks like everyone is here. Let us begin. I said settle down!” One of correctional officers, a tall man with the biggest gut he had ever seen, growled and slammed a hand onto the desk. The prisoners continued to talk and mull about ignoring the man even as his mustache twitched in irritation.

He sat behind the main desk and made a cutting motion in front of his neck with his hand. One of the other guards got the message and removed his pistol from the holster, raising it into the air and firing it at the ceiling. That got a reaction out of the prisoners almost immediately and the room grew so quiet, one could drop a pin on the ground and hear it bounce.

The prisoners moved with nervous sluggish movements back into their seats and eyeballed the guards with worried creases in their expressions. Zyke however, was not startled by the events that had transpired at all. The entire thing had been too telegraphed, too flash to have been spur of the moment. The fact that no one reacted to the shot on the radio despite being in a prison was evident and even more so, the fact that the gun didn’t leave a bullet hole confirmed his suspicions.

Zyke had to give respect where it was due though. Firing a blank to scare prisoners on their second day was a tactically sound plan. The psychological effect on the men who were probably in prison for just identity theft and fraud was probably the strongest weapon that the guards had. No wonder a lot of the people here were complacent by the time they were released. Luckily this was not the prison that Zyke had been placed in. If it had of been, no doubt, he would have come out a lot more fucked up than he already was.

“Now that I’ve got your attention, it’s time to lay out some ground rules.” The main guard leaned back in his seat and the chair made a groan at the shift. “None of you in this room are lifers so.. at least you got that going for you. At the end of your sentence, you get to walk away free men.”

He adjusted his tie and smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, flicking a crumb away with an offhand gesture. “I don’t care what you did to get yourself put in our prison. To make it quite clear, it doesn’t matter. This is your punishment so any issues you have, you better work it out of your system in here before your release or we’ll be seeing you again real soon.”

One prisoner rose his hand up to ask a question but the guard barely gave him a glance as he continued to speak. “Now, just cause this is your punishment doesn’t mean that the experience will be terrible. Your stay here can be beneficial if you go about things the right way. It’s simple. If you’re good, you get rewards and benefits that can make your stay more pleasant-”

Zyke tuned out the guard shortly after that. He didn’t need to listen anymore to get a jist of what was being said. Orientation was usually the place where the weak links were ousted. They get talked up with the idea of rewards if they are model prisoners and don’t cause trouble. At least, at first that’s how it starts. But then months down the line, the guards start to ask for favours and information in return for those nice gifts. Sure, a prisoner can be guaranteed safety by the guards during yard time but at what cost? You’re even more likely to end up dead at another violent prisoners hands for even thinking about taking that deal.

He had been here before and knew the way the system worked all too well. The guards try to fight to establish some form of control and information sects throughout the prison not realizing that they already existed, just not for them. That’s what Zyke needed to get in touch with, not some mole the guards bought with kindness but the prisoners that had fallen between their fingers like grains of sand. They were the faceless mass of people that spoke little but saw everything. They were the true power in the prison and Criken was intent on him establishing contact with the ‘Cats’.

“-keep what I’ve said in mind for the future. Remember, your stay here will only be as pleasant as you make it. Any questions?” The guard finished the orientation with a glance, his eyes going over the crowd, purposely ignoring the hands raised. “Good. Now boys, take them to the cafeteria.”

Zyke watched as the row of inmates began to file out aisle by aisle, still not spotting Lawlman at all while they cleared out of the room slowly. His worry must have been displayed clear on his features because as he glanced at one of the guards, they frowned and approached his desk. They tapped it impatiently with their billy stick and made a nod to the door. Zyke rose his hands in a placating gesture before standing up and going to the back of the line.

 

***

 

The cafeteria, at first glance could almost be mistaken for belonging in a high school. The floor, walls and ceiling were a bland off-white colour that made the orange jumpsuits stand out in stark contrast. There were several prisoners mulling about either in small groups or alone, seated at long tables bolted to the ground or standing in a line up leading towards the kitchen serving food.

Zyke glanced around the room, darting his vision around quickly as he picked out the people taking subtle glances back at him. There were eyes everywhere and Zyke felt it in his gut that the cameras high up on the walls were going to be the least of his problems in this place. It was going to be the prisoners that were going to make this difficult if he didn’t play his cards right.

With a determined expression, he made his way over to the line up for food. He stepped behind a short, pudgy man with an obscure spanish term buzzed into the side of his hair. The man didn’t look like he’d be much in a physical fight but his posture still set off some red flags in Zyke’s head.

He took in the other man's deep breathing and stance. One hand was crossed over the other in front of him and his fingers were tightly clenched. The man wasn’t giving off signs of impatience though. His vision was locked in front of him and he refused to even glance around. He was absolutely still, like the calm before the storm.

Zyke felt alarm bells in his head going off louder as another prisoner began to walk past the lineup with a full tray of food. The man was glancing about as if looking for a seat and wasn’t paying attention in the least. He reminded him so much of Lucas. The man didn’t seem to be aware of the lineup next to him. Zyke was paying attention though, he saw the muscles of the prisoner in front tense up.

Just as the man was passing by, the inmate in the line stepped out in front of him and cut off his path. He didn’t give the man time to react before he rose what he had hidden in between his hands. It was a ballpoint pen with something long and metal jammed into the tip, making it a more deadly tool. The prisoner didn’t make a noise or say anything to explain the attack but in a place like this, some things were self explanatory.

Zyke knew how things went in prison. Just because he had never been in this one, didn’t mean that things were any different. Getting involved in a scuffle like this without knowing the politics could end very badly for him. He’d have no idea who’s toes he’d be stepping on. It wouldn’t be a smart move especially since he already had a red dot sight on him for being a new prisoner. But alas, Zyke wasn’t known for doing the smartest things. He was instinctual, a think first and deal with the consequences later sort of person. Years later and he was still that compulsive young teen that had first picked up a gun and liked the weight of it in his hands.

He moved without even thinking about it. There was a weapon in play so he went for that first. From behind, he grabbed the raised hand with his right arm and once he had it stalled, brought his left elbow down into the crook of the man’s shoulder. He used his height to his advantage and really drove the blow in, the strike drawing a breath from the inmate and at the loosening grip he retrieved the altered pen.

A quick glance down confirmed his suspicions. The tip of the pen where the ink would come out had been widened to serve as a handle for a sharpened piece of metal that looked like it had been torn from a roof. Being caught red handed with a item like this would undoubtedly get him into a hell of a lot of trouble so without hesitation he tossed it over the food serving table and aimed for a deep pot sitting without its lid on the stove. For only having a few seconds to react, Zyke nailed the trajectory easily and the weapon make a heavy splash and clink as it sunk to the bottom. No one was going to be retrieving that anytime soon.

The man he had struck had gained his breath back and had pulled from his grip. One hand was now at his throat but he stood tall and this time his anger was turned from the nervous looking inmate to Zyke. His eyes were blazing in a rage he had only ever seen on Tomato before and only on days were his pc decided to blue screen on him.

“You dumb bitch. Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?” The prisoner snarled, tone low as to not draw the guard’s attention but it was starting to get obvious by the lagging lineup that something was going on.

Zyke took a breath and after seeing the prisoner that had been attacked scramble safely towards a table with hands shaking and eyes downcast, he decided to commit completely to the crime. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Nope.” He answered back, popping the ‘p’ sound.

Without waiting for an answer back he threw a wild haymaker that had the pudgy man crumpling. Zyke’s punch drove the enraged prisoner to the ground. With that, he stepped over him like it was business per usual and ignored the sound of footsteps as the guards quickly closed in on the scene. The attack and retaliation had only taken place in the span of a few seconds but the correctional officers treated the scene like a murder had taken place. If Zyke hadn't been as quick as he was, that might have been the case.

“What the fuck happened here?” One of them yelled, grabbing a handful of the downed inmates shirt. He lifted him by the lapels and held him up till he regained his balance. “Warren, are you starting shit in the lineup again?”

“Fuck you, I don't care if you throw my ass in solitary again. But that guy over there started it.” Warren snarled back. He continued to stumble ever so often, still shaking off the punch. As he was backed up entering Zyke’s vision, he could see the reddening area where he had struck him.

“Yeah. I'm sure he did.” The first guard shook his head.

“Don't believe me? Ask the prick yourself.”

Warren had directed a finger at Zyke and next thing he knew a guard clapped a hand onto his shoulder and turned him to face them. “What happened here?”

“Nothing happened that I’m aware of.” Zyke spoke in an easygoing tone, seemingly not bothered by the open interrogation by the guards. There were prisoners all over the place watching the conversation happening and he’ll be damned if he gives a poor performance. Criken always told him that if he were going to make a show of things, at least make it ‘entertaining’ for the viewers. “Sounds like dear Warren lost his temper… and his sense of balance.”

The guard narrowed his eyes but said nothing else to him. He obviously didn't like the attitude and answer he got in return because he snapped his fingers to get the cafeteria duty inmates attention and pointed at Zyke. “This one gets half rations.” At the nod he received, he looked back at Zyke and frowned. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice about lying.”

Zyke just shrugged and continued to smile till the guard left his side to grab Warren’s other arm. The man was flailing and struggling against the other guard and was making any attempts at moving him a living hell. For being as stoic as he had been earlier, he put up one hell of a fight now and punched and kicked till he was finally forced on his stomach, hands cuffed behind his back.

“Come on Warren. Back to solitary with you.”

“I’ll kill you. You hear me? I’ll fucking slit your throat in your cell. You’ll be drowning in your own blood-” Warren kept screeching as his short body was lifted up by the shoulders and dragged out of the cafeteria. His muffled yells could still be heard for several more minutes before they faded out.

As much as he thought decking the man was worth it, not getting jello and only half a sandwich really sucked. Zyke sighed and took his meal to a nearby table. It was only half full and looked for the most part, taken up by people not really conversing or making eyes at anyone else. Good, he really didn’t want to end up in an awkward situation with the seating arrangement. It was like high school all over again.

 

***

 

Luckily breakfast went by uneventfully and he walked towards the garbage bin with no interactions with anyone else. He got a lot of glances but no one really seemed to showcase their anger towards him for decking Warren. Maybe he got lucky and the man wasn’t associated with any gangs and was just a person that needed to work through his anger issues by randomly attacking people.

It was announced over the intercom that it was now yard time and Zyke was eager to get dibs. The yard could only fit a certain number of inmates in at a time so he knew it was first come, first serve. He also knew that if he had any chance to find Lawlman in their designated timeframe, it would most likely be out there.

He made a hussle for the front door and only eyeballed the guards in the hall momentarily before he stepped past the threshold of inside the prison and outside where the yard was. It was warm outside and the sun was bright enough to momentarily blind him before he shaded his eyes with one hand. After a few minutes of adjusting, he caught sight of various gym equipment and several locations where prisoners were actively participating in sports. Some people were grouped up in a suspicious corner, making eyes at anyone passing by but it was obvious that the guards were very much aware of whatever illegal things they were up to by the narrow glares and offhanded threats directed at them.

Zyke walked over to an unoccupied bolted down table and took a seat by himself. His fingers ran over the ingrain carved into the wood and smiled in recollection. Most prisons usually had board games of sorts to keep the inmates occupied but from the looks of things, someone had taken the time to scratch a well detailed checkerboard onto its surface. It was quite impressive work. His eyes took in the initials beside the board and he traced the cursive letters with a quirked brow, faintly recognizing them. S.T

Amusement lit up in his eyes as he realized who it belonged to. Strippin. The man certainly found an interesting way to pass his time. And from the looks of the table, had to be carrying something sharp on his person. He continued to scratch a fingernail over the initials, ignoring the world around him but all to aware of the shadow that suddenly loomed behind him.

“First day and already causing shit, eh?”

Zyke quirked a brow at that familiar tone and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, looking to the world as carefree as someone sipping coffee in a cafe. “You know me. I'm not good at making friends.”

Lawlman walked around the table after patting Zyke on the shoulder gently. “Pfft, the officers here are gonna love you then.” As he sat down, Zyke got a good look at his face and the aloof smile immediately disappeared.

The other assassin had a cut on the bridge of his nose, a busted lip and a large purpling bruise that started below the eye and went down his cheek, disappearing under the collar of his jumpsuit. He looked tired and beaten but that look in his eyes was still there, sharp like a razor.

“Shit, what the fuck happened to you? We haven't even been here twenty four hours and your stunning looks are already tarnished.” Zyke tried to swallow away the dryness in his mouth. “And you complain about me starting shit with random prisoners.”

“Believe it or not. This wasn't an inmates doing.” Lawlman glanced away, eyeing one of the guards. He didn't need to say anything else. His actions spoke loud enough and the tenseness in the air was suddenly palpable.

“Was it-”

“Random? Yeah.. It was a luck of the draw and I just happened to get the short end of the stick. I'll admit, I may have painted a broader bullseye on my back when we first arrived for talking back at the truck.” Lawlman looked down at the table and began drumming a hand along its surface.

The tapping started as a series of four taps as he rolled his fingers from pinkie to index over the wood. A few shifts of the hand and readjustments and it seemed like he found a part of the table that gave a more hollow tap as he struck it. He smiled and gave Zyke a little wink before the drumming of his fingers changed. The tempo shifted tone that was more calculated, not a beat but a language.

It was a code that Zyke and Lawlman had both prided themselves on mastering. The tap code. In prison you ended up having a lot of time to yourself, especially when you’re thrown in solitary confinement. You could yell and scream till your voice is hoarse but you’d only end up with a sore throat before the guards would come in and beat you for being a loud nuisance to the others around you. But tapping? Well, no one pays attention to that. Different materials carry noises at different distances so you didn't even need to have a cell neighbour that knew the code. If you struck the metal of the bars with something solid, the sound could carry far enough that several people fluent could hear and understand it.

“Well, lets hope they don't rough you up to much before you’re out. I'm sure you miss your girlfriend.” Zyke continued a fake casual conversation for anyone listening in and leaned back in his seat, resting an elbow on the top of the chair. His other hand rested flat on the table, fingers tented in preparation for his taps. He closed his eyes and picked out four letters that brought a smirk to his face.

_P-E-R-C_

Looks like Lawlman’s investigation had gone a lot better than his. He hadn't even established any sort of communication with anyone but he had somehow found Percussion? Why the hell was he here in this prison? And for how long? Lawlman stopped spelling the name once he saw the recognition on Zykes and nodded down at the table. Specifically the initials carved onto the table. So Percussion was here for Strippin. That was news to him.

“I wouldn't be surprised if my girlfriend decided to up and run off on me. She isn't known to _stick around_ in one place for a long time.” Lawlman casually jested, an inside joke since both men knew he was currently single had been that way voluntarily for a long time. His job didn't really leave room for long term relationships with unaffiliated people.

“Man, your girlfriend sucks anyways… No pun intended.” Zyke laughed and rolled a shoulder in a casual display as he quickly began drumming his hand over the table, making the appropriate pauses to spell out ‘ _A-W-A-R-E’_. He glanced about the yard casually and only made eye contact with another inmate for a second, who looked at him nervously before they went back to doing crunches. Apparently his reputation had already spread. Interesting.

Lawlman followed his gaze and after he finished tapping, he nodded. He let out a disgruntled noise about his non-existent girlfriend but said nothing, simply wearing a cranky expression as Zyke winked and continued on with his message.

‘ _M-E-E-T_ ’

Lawlman nodded again. He moved to stand up and let out a sound of exasperation once he was on his feet. “Your lucky your not in my area. I don't even get a cell to myself tonight.”

Zyke crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Is that so? Your saying that you've got roommates? Lucky you.”

“It’s just _one guy._ But the asshole was snoring all night long. Hardly got a wink of sleep in my cell.” Lawlman tilted his head and tapped out ‘ _M-E-A-L_ ’ before giving Zyke’s back one last friendly pat. He passed him and walked away, his form getting lost in a sea of orange jumpsuits.

Zyke sat there a few minutes longer as he compiled the information that Lawlman had given to him. He had put heavy enunciation on certain words so picking apart the puzzle was a bit easier but even with that, he was relying heavily on assumptions. From what he could gather, Percussion was here and he was aware of Strippin. Whether he was here to help bust him out or was just serving as his protection was still unclear to him. He hadn't heard from the man in several months.

And Lawlman mentioned one guy being in his cell. He laughed because the snoring was quite obviously a reference to the time they had worked together with Percussion and the man snored like a chainsaw revving up. Was that how he meet Percussion in here? Random chance? Lucky bastard.

He shook his head at that thought before he mulled over why ‘meal’ was mentioned. It must have meant lunch or dinner but the way Lawlman said ‘tonight’ must mean that their meeting was happening at dinner. He hoped that was the case. Zyke was taking a lot of this on assumptions and blind faith. Here's hoping that he doesn't get shanked before that time comes.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Boffy for going over the story and making my rapid typing look like actual sentences.
> 
> I'm still looking for names to throw in so if your interested in seeing a certain name pop up, send me a pm on tumblr.


	19. Drop dead for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Criken’s voice was barely heard over the clinking of glasses but he knew that tone. He recognized the tension as tight as a violin string, on the brink of snapping if not played correctly.

***

 

It had been twenty four hours since Sideshow had sent Lawlman and Zyke into the prison. The rest of the gang had been working tirelessly on their side of the plan but even with the constant shift among their ranks, everyone could feel the absence of the two hitmen. In the private area beneath the Showroom club, there was a vacuum that seemed to suck the sound out of the air, leaving everyone seated there in a silence that was unusual for the group. The rambunctious energy that used to be in the air had all but evaporated and the few people who could stomach it were sitting around, somber expressions on their features as they worked through the night.

 

Criken had been sitting behind the three laptops they had set up for him as a temporary command station and was the first to break the silence. He had found himself getting more distracted as the time ticked by and his eyes would slowly slide from the screen, up to his redhead companion who was fixing a program on Shayne’s phone for him. An hour of awkward glances later and he let out a heavy breath, hands running through him hair in a tired gesture. He waited till Shayne took back his phone with a grateful nod and a small smile before he closed each laptop seated before him and stretched.

 

Shayne gave him a pat on the shoulder and he could feel the warmth seep through his sweater. The man had an aloof expression on his face like he hadn’t a care in the world but the dark circles under his eyes told a different story entirely. He had spent all day in the Darkroom and was only leaving now after being pestered by Bree and Tomato to get some sleep. Out of everyone on the group, Zyke’s placement in the prison seemed to worry him the most and no amount of smoking was cooling his nerves.

 

Criken placed his hand on top of Shayne’s and gave it a squeeze, nodding and trying to showcase as much sympathy as he could in his tired state. There was a long pause where Shayne looked as if he was about to say something before he swallowed it back and blinked away the glossiness in his eyes. Whatever it was, this was not the place or time to voice it. 

 

The leader of the Wild Children nodded one last time before he took his leave with a small exhausted noise. He began the slow trek up the stairs leading back into the club and the sound of the music above got loud momentarily as he opened the hidden door. It blared down the stairwell and into the Darkroom, filling the emptiness with actual sound before it was muted again with a click as the door closed again.

 

Criken looked around the room confirming that him and Tomato were the only ones left in the room. The rest had their assorted tasks to deal with and even their newest addition Buck had been stationed with Bree until they had a more permanent location to put him. It was just the two of them… and a lot of unanswered questions that hung heavily between them. Criken took another deep breath and felt the beginnings of a sentence hanging from the tip of his tongue. He reigned it in before he could make an ass out of himself and confined himself to sitting there in the silence, eyeing Tomato who was sitting at the bar by himself and drinking. Criken couldn’t see his expression from where he was seated but could tell by the stress in his back that he was resolute in his desire to drink himself into a stupor, if the half bottle of whiskey at his side was any evidence.

 

It was situations like this where Criken wished he was much better at opening conversations without coming off as awkward. There was Tomato, obviously drinking to prepare himself for their discussion but Criken couldn’t even bring himself to man up and take the first step. Instead he sat there uncharacteristically nervous, hands across his chest and his gaze at the closed laptops on the table. He could just go back to scanning over the surveillance footage that he nabbed from their earlier heist, maybe try to track the license plates back to Outlander. He could get in touch with a few of Strippin’s associates and let them know to prepare for his return. There were plenty of things he could be doing to occupy his mind and fill his time. But all of them were quite clearly attempts at avoiding Tomato that he couldn’t bring himself to do any of them. He was paralyzed by his feelings, it was new to him.

 

A few more silent moments passed before he heard the clearing of a throat and his attention was pulled out of his distracted thoughts, eyes moving around the room confused before his gaze locked onto the man still sitting at the bar. The only difference was that Tomato was now turned to face him, his weight rested on the bar by his elbows and one hand was slowly rotating his half empty glass on the surface. Tomato may have had a few drinks in him but his gaze was as resolute and sharp as ever.

 

“So, are you going to ask or are we just going to make this more awkward and sit in silence until one of us kills the other?”

 

Criken felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips despite himself and he ran a hand through his bangs again before nodding slowly. Tomato certainly had a way of cutting through the tension. He pushed himself off the plush couch and felt his legs complain at the shift of movement as he stretched his back till it made a satisfying click. Seeing the irritated look in the other man’s eyes was well worth the wasted time and he leisurely sauntered over to the bar to mask the nervousness coursing through his veins.

 

Tomato rose a brow and gingerly moved an arm to make room for the other grey hat to sit with him. The sound of the bubbling aquarium under the bar provided enough sounds to drone out the little voice in the back in his mind telling him that taunting Criken before this fated conversation wasn’t the best of moves, especially after what he had done. The lights from the ceiling and floor cast shadows on his face and made him look more stoic and his neutral expression reminded him that despite everything they had been through, Criken was quite capable of breaking a bone or two without batting an eyelash. Honestly, that was almost more preferable over the stressful silence that had been building between the two of them all day.

 

“Well?” Criken’s voice was barely heard over the clinking of glasses but he knew that tone. He recognized the tension as tight as a violin string, on the brink of snapping if not played correctly.

 

Tomato felt his mouth go dry and he took another sip, swallowing heavily before setting his glass back down with a gentle thunk. He could taste the alcohol barely washing back the bile that threatened to come back up and he waited a pause as the warmth in his stomach grew. That boost of confidence was all he needed to let everything flow out of him like poison dripping from his lips. 

 

“I.. I cheated on you with Bed. Him and I have been sleeping together for about a month now. Up until a week ago when he saved Buck, him and I had been meeting up on the side.” The words stung as they came out, long and tumbling and there was no amount of grasping that could pull them back in. He had pretty much built himself up higher and higher despite knowing quite clearly that his house of cards was bound to collapse at even the slightest scrutiny by Criken. “It’s why I wasn’t around the Darkroom as often. We’d meet up at the Maverick, drink for a bit then it’d be his place and-”

 

“Stop.” Criken had maintained his stare on the shelves of bottles in front of him, refusing to even look at Tomato once. His hand was laid out flat on the bar but at his demand, they began a slow intimidating drum on the surface. “I don’t want to hear anymore. No more excuses...”

 

Tomato took a deep breath and nodded, no longer knowing how to continue. The other hacker looked over at him with a long detached gaze and his heart thudded heavily in his chest as the drumming on the bar stopped suddenly. The silence went on for several seconds and was almost deafening with how it seemed to fill the air around them. Tomato did his best to control his breathing and as he looked away, threw back the rest of his drink to occupy himself. 

 

When the glass made the transition from Tomato’s lips back to the table, Criken seemed to finally reach the end of his trailing thoughts. He looked contemplative but then again, most of the masks he wore were of that emotion so who knew what he was really thinking. His glass sat untouched in front of him and the ice cubes made a clink noise as they continued to melt. He hadn’t even taken a sip out of it since pouring it for himself. Everything he did seemed to carry the air of an improvised performance.

 

Criken rotated on the stool he was sitting on and let out a long exhale as he got up. He stood facing towards the tunnel that attached the club to the laundromat but made no motions towards leaving. Instead he paused there. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Tomato with a drained expression on his face and he looked just as emotionally distraught as Shayne was earlier. The sheen of his glasses did little to hide the overtaxed lines in his brow.

 

“I knew.” 

 

He said the two words that Tomato had feared would fall from his lips. He was about to throw himself off his own stool to try to explain himself further but instead, found himself slouching more in his seat. He wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the ground beneath him. The bile at the back of his throat rose up again and this time, with an empty glass, he could do little to ignore the sourness. 

 

Criken grabbed his bag off the couch as he passed by it and walked to the underground tunnel door. His steps were slow by measured. His gaze never wavered for a moment as he did so and he shook his head once his hand closed around the handle. A single dry huff of a laugh escaped him. “I knew the whole time.” And with that, he left. The door closed behind him with a finalizing ‘click’ that ended the conversation just as quickly as it had begun.

 

Perhaps it was for the better. Tomato sat there trying to reason out that perhaps times away from each other was for the better but a smaller part of him was being unabashingly cruel and taunting him for even letting him leave without giving any sort of reasoning. He stood up with a grimace and choked back a pathetic noise before letting out a louder growl. The sound filled the room but did little to ground him, even as he flung his empty drink across the room. It went soaring across the room and made a satisfying mess against the wall but even that act of violence did little to ease his jitters. 

 

Tomato could feel a headache coming on and his breath came out in short pants, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The man was methodical and calculated at the best of times but at his worst, he was a tornado of anger that would destroy anything and everything that did not stand in the eye of the storm with him. If he were left to his own devices for too long he could definitely tear the entire Darkroom apart, tile by tile. As much as he wanted to do so and as tempting as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

 

This room.. No, this entire club was a combined effort of every member of Sideshow. From the rifle racks and the couches to the custom made bar stocked with alcohols of rare and rich quality. If he took out his anguish here, he would only end up destroying what they had built together as a team, as a family. He couldn’t do that to them. Especially not after this situation was clearly his fault.

 

Tomato paced back and forth, fingers running through his hair repeatedly as his thoughts raced a mile a minute. He needed to get away. He needed some time to think to himself and make things right. One hand fell down to his pocket and retrieved his phone. Tomato thumbed over a name that stood out from all the others due to the amount of banana emoji’s he had used in place of letters and he smiled at the sight despite himself.

 

He needed to speak to Bed.

 

***

 

“Hey.”

 

Lawlman opened his eyes and rolled over in his cot with a pained grimace, turning to face the voice that called out to him. His bruised ribs ached at the movement as he jostled his injuries from his earlier interaction with the guards and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust in the darkness. After a few seconds he could finally make out the figure rooming with him in his cell.

Sitting on the other bed was none other than Percussion. The man looked unphased as per usual and eyeballed the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before continuing. He ran a hand over his face, fingers pinching the sleep out of his eyes at the motion before his palm settled under his chin.

 

“Well?” 

 

Lawlman gave him a long look and nodded, instantly regretting the motion as the pain in his skull only picked up from that. He rolled over onto his back again and stared blankly up at the flaking ceiling, one hand resting over his stomach. “Yeah, he’s aware. We didn’t get to talk much though.”

 

“Good luck having a private conversation during yard time. Can’t even talk about the lunch menu without three officer’s leaning over your shoulder with batons at the ready.” Percussion could be heard shifting on his bed and a creak indicated that he was now standing up. There was a long drawn out groan and a crack as he stretched before he continued. “They suck the fun out of everything. Though, from the looks of things, you already know that.”

 

“Yeah I can tell.” Lawlman ground out, a hand pressed to his swollen cheek. “Honestly should have suspected as much coming in here.”

 

“Don’t tell me.. First time here?” Percussion had approached his bed and moved his legs just enough so he could sit next to him. He rose a hand and hovered it hesitantly over the other man’s chest and gave him a contemplative glance.

 

Lawlman snorted and rolled his eyes but his brave charade deflating almost immediately and he nodded. “First time ever. I’ve never been behind bars before.”

 

Percussion gently rested a hand over his chest and located the side that Lawlman was favouring with his own arm. He pressed two fingers firmly into the skin, applying enough pressure to indent. “And Criken thought that was a smart idea sending you in? Shit.. Do me a favour and cough.”

 

The man did as asked and made a face as the fingers prodded in deeper momentarily before pulling back. “Yeah well, he thought a fresh face would be good. I don’t have a record to trace and.. Ow ow ow... “ The hands pressed at a few more locations on his side and Percussion demanded him to cough a few more times before he finally pulled back completely. 

 

“Lucky you. Looks like they are just bruised. Last guy I roomed with showed up with two broken ribs and a fractured clavicle. Don’t ask what happened to him.” Percussion stood up again and wandered over to the bars of their cell, glancing around again before walking back. 

 

Lawlman stroked his stubble still staring at the ceiling and grinned defiantly. “What happened to him?”

 

“Eh.” Percussion gave him a narrow glare as his tone took on a bostonian accent, rugged and deep. “Forget about it. I told you not to ask any questions, didn’t I?”

 

The volume he spoke was a bit louder than how he had been talking earlier. It was loud enough for other people to hear and it was obvious that someone was still awake when the two men heard a prisoner yell back.

 

“Eh, your breaking my balls here.” Their accent was more over the top and they rolled the r’s as they spoke.

 

Percussion just rolled his eyes and closed his hands around the bars, leaning his face as close as he could to mock whisper back. “Eh, that’s funny Gmart. I didn’t think you had any balls.”

 

Lawlman started to lift himself into a sitting position at that. “Fuck. Gmart is here too?” He had an incredulous look on his face as he managed to throw his legs over the side of the bed with minimal jostling of his bruised ribs. “What the hell. Do you guys just hang out in prison in your spare time or something?”

 

“Free board and meals? What’s not to love?” Gmart called back, dropping all pretense of his accent from before. His voice was loud but it wasn’t echoing as though it were coming from far away. He must have been in the cell right next to them.

 

“That’s little bitch talk for you. He just enjoys the company too much.” Percussion chimed in with a quirk of the brow and a little grin. “It’s also one of the reasons why he doesn’t have a roommate anymore.”

 

There was a laugh and a pause before Gmart continued. “Nah, Strippin pulled some strings for me.”

 

“Cause you're one of his little bitches.” Lawlman came up next to Percussion and dangled his arms through the bars. He laughed to himself, pleased as punch despite the situation he was in. It was nice to be around people he knew again even if they were stuck behind bars for the majority of their stay.

 

“Is that Lawlman I hear?” Gmart called out before he was interrupted by a loud bang from down the hallway. There was a correctional officer coming back from his patrol and he had slammed his baton on the railing. 

 

“Shit, back to bed.” Percussion grumbled under his breath, returning to his cot with a few long strides. Seeing Lawlman’s hesitation to move, he pointed at the other bed and made a ‘hurry up’ motion. “No no no. Trust me. You don’t want to piss that guard off.”

 

Lawlman pulled his arms back from the bars and quickly scurried back to his bed as well, taking Percussion’s advice. He had just managed to roll onto his bed when a uniformed figure passed by their cell.

 

“Sounds like someone is eager to run laps in the yard.” There was a disgruntled noise from Gmart’s cell and the female guard slammed her stick against the bars of his cell at that sound. “Well, Martin? From the sound of things you must want that. Do you?”

 

“No Ma’am.” Gmart grumbled and from the noises he was making, had shuffled further back into his cell. As if doing that could keep him safe from the agitated officer.

 

“It’s two in the morning and you’re not sleeping so that must be what you want.” She ran the stick along the bars and the metal sounded like a macabre xylophone being played from the motion. 

 

“No seriously, I’m fine.” Gmart was practically stumbling over his words at that. “I’ll go back to bed, you won’t hear a peep out of me. I promise.”

 

“Alright then.” She began to walk away but stopped right in front of the shared cell belonging to Percussion and Lawlman. Her head tilted to the side and an alarming expression crossed her face. She turned back to Gmart’s cell and with a wicked grin, lifted a set of cuffs from her belt. “Fuck it, you know what.. Hands.”

 

Gmart was in the middle of sputtering an excuse and an apology but it all seemed to fall of deaf ears as she leaned in closer. “Show me your hands or you’ll lose them.”

 

He made a distraught noise in the back of his throat but obeyed nonetheless, pushing his already bruised forearms through the bars to be cuffed and from the sounds of things, she wasn’t exactly being gentle with him.

 

“Open cell 0711.” She demanded into her radio, eyes never leaving the prisoner in front of her.

 

There was a buzz and the door made a screech of metal on metal as it opened up. By now there was various disgruntled noises coming from the other cells and some were being more vocal about being woken up in the middle of the night, throwing curses at the man who ticked of the guard. Percussion joined in.

 

“Way to go Gmart, you pissed her off again.”

 

“Seriously man? I got cafeteria duty in a few hours.”

 

“Have fun running laps till breakfast time bitch!” Percussion yelled from his cot before putting the pillow over his head to block out the rest of the yelling on the cell block as more and more people woke up.

 

Lawlman watched as Gmart was escorted from his cell towards the direction of the yard. Once they were out of sight, he rolled over to face Percussion. “That sort of thing happen often?”

 

Percussion lifted the pillow off his head, revealing a grin. He didn’t say anything for the longest time and just shrugged. “Just with Gmart. He has a habit of pissing off Katherine. I’m starting to think she has a thing for him… or vice versa. Anyways, get some sleep. You’ll need it for tomorrow when we meet up with Strippin.” He shrugged again, lowering the pillow back onto his head. A few seconds later, he was dead to the world and snoring loudly.

 

“I would if you didn’t snore like you were sawing logs.” Lawlman grumbled and rolled over, taking a note from Percussions book and covering his head with a pillow too.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things are kicking up only to leave you all hanging at the last minute. I know, I know... but trust me, I have a plan. One. More. Job. Just have a lil faith.


	20. The best PogChamp award goes to:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you're here, that can only mean one thing. You're planning on making a move on Strippin."
> 
> "And if I am?"
> 
> "I reckon I may know how to.... assist you with that matter."

***

“Strippin is only out of the isolated cell block for meals and yard time.” Percussion explained, brushing through his hair with his fingers. He was already up and dressed, eyeing his features in the mirror while waiting for Lawlman to be fully awake. He knew that waking up on a timed schedule in prison wasn’t an easy transition to make so he was patiently waiting despite the fact that their cell was already open for the day.

Lawlman was sitting on the edge of his bed and still yawning. He nodded absentmindedly and made a noise as he listened but looked to be focused more on wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Uh huh..”

“But his yard time is usually highly supervised because of information he haggled when he first arrived here so that might be difficult.”

Lawlman rose a brow at that and lifted his gaze up to the other man. He had a confused expression on his face and lifted a finger in a inquisitive display. “Ummm, now I may not be an expert but isn’t that.. sort of a frowned upon thing here? ‘Snitches get stitches’ and all that?”

“Yeah, but everyone hated that Highroller prick so he got what was coming to him.” Percussion stated offhandedly, a little bit of a smirk on his lip as if recalling a fond memory. He went to the doorway of their shared cell and playfully gave the door a whap of the hand before exiting into the hall. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about it on the way down to breakfast.”

***

Zyke followed the various inmates as they began filtering out of cells and into the hallways that lead to the cafeteria. He moved under the watchful eyes of the correctional officer into the large room where breakfast was being served. It was still early so many of the tables were filled with half asleep prisoners. He glanced around the room in search of a recognizable face but didn’t see anyone yet so he was left to wander around, looking for a place to sit.

The line in front of the cafeteria was shortening as people were starting to find tables to eat at so Zyke went there first. Serving breakfast was the same inmate that had been told to give him half rations last time. Their eyes met and there was a flash of recognition in the other man’s eyes as he seemed to remember him. Zyke gave him a half shrug but said nothing as his tray was filled with food. He found himself on the brink of laughing as he was given three scoops of mash instead of two.

The inmate only looked up again to give him a guilty look and a small smile. He offered Zyke his tray back and immediately turned to serve the next person in the line up. No words had to be said. Zyke had certainly left a big enough of an impression to get some of those lovely ‘perks’ he kept hearing about. Or perhaps the man felt guilty for being forced to give him less food last time. Either way, he wasn’t going to complain and his stomach was definitely not going to complain neither.

He collected his tray and turned around, having another moment of dread as he realised he had no idea where to sit again. Zyke turned left and right, glancing about the room when he caught sight of movement at the corner of his eye. Sitting in the corner and staring directly at him was a thin, mousy figure of a man. He was sitting alone but had one leg resting lengthwise down the seat, taking up more space than was needed.

Zyke rose a brow at him and watched the man move his leg off the bench as if inviting him to sit there. No other alternatives presented themselves to him so he nodded slowly and walked over. The prisoner gave him a once over as if judging his worth and shifted over to give Zyke more room to sit. He was staring forward at the hallway leading out to the yard but was obviously aware of Zyke as he sat next to him.

“Zyke, I presume?” The man murmured. His elbows were rested on the table and his mouth hidden behind his hands as he spoke.

“Yeah..” Zyke was almost hesitant to answer but if this was an associate of Strippin, he didn’t have time to beat around the bush. Especially since every second mattered in this place.

The man nodded ever so slightly and lowered a hand to his own tray, pushing around the last of his mash with his spoon. “Good good. You can call me Roach.”

“Interesting name.” Zyke opened his carton of milk and brought it up to his lips to hide his smirk.

Roach grinned back and tilted his head owl like. His dark eyes followed the movements of Zyke’s hands. “That’s amusing coming from you, Zyke. What kind of a name is Zyke anyways?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.” He threw in a little wink for good measure.

The two of them seemed to get along very well and continued their quiet discussion back and forth as Zyke finished up his food. It wasn’t exactly a five star quality meal but it was filling so at least that was something. As they spoke, he learned a bit about the man who called himself Roach.

He was a prisoner with a life sentence or a ‘Lifer’ as they were referred as. Because of that, he was the most knowledgeable of the going ons within the walls of the prison. He knew guards by name, their rotation and had a pretty good idea on why Zyke was here. While he was associated with Strippin, Roach had decided a long time ago that he was quite comfortable in prison and so he decided to stay. He had been given several opportunities to leave but turned them down in favour of staying in the one place he knew best.

Zyke understood that mentality all too well. When you’ve gotten used to the day to day, why would you want to change for something new and scary? Especially in the day and age where the shadows held less than friendly individuals waiting to stab you in the back and twist the blade. Roach didn’t have to get too far into his reasons for staying for him to hear the still bitter undertone in his words. Somewhere in the past, someone had dug that blade in too deep and he decided that the outside world wasn’t one he wanted to be associated with anymore.

“But hey, enough about me. You’re the one who came to me after all and I reckon you’re here for Strippin.” Roach inquired with a tilt of his head. His gaze was still lazily moving about the cafeteria, keeping an eye out for anyone watching them.

“You reckon? And if I was?”

Roach let out a short huff of breath as if imitating a laugh and he stared off into the distance, his eyes focused on something. “I’d say you came to the right person.”

Zyke nodded at that and leaned back in his seat. He stretched his arms over his head as casually as he could manage and glanced over his shoulder, following Roach’s gaze. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to pick out who he was looking at. A man had just walked into the cafeteria, both sides bracketed by a guard as they escorted him and a handful of other prisoners.

From the looks of things, the men that were being chaperoned by the correctional officers were those who resided in the isolated cell block. Some of them looked too squirrely to have survived in the prison without any sort of protection so it was obvious which ones had made deals with the guards for safety and an isolated cell.

Well, most of them looked like that.

One of them stood out from the rest though. Like a wolf standing among the sheep, his posture and appearance was not of someone who had been cowed by the guards. He walked with purpose, like the rest of the world orbited around him. He was almost a head taller than most of the others around him and his eyes, no matter how many times Zyke saw them, he would never forget them. They were sharp and piercing like sharp knives on unprotected flesh. A shiver went up Zyke’s spine as their eyes locked. Even as far away as he was, he could see that little smile that curled on his lips. Strippin had seen him and judging from his expression, he recognized him immediately.

Strippin leaned over to say something to one of the officer’s standing next to him and the uniformed man seemed to hesitate and look around before giving him a curt nod. Like that, the man moved through the crowd and walked towards the cafeteria. People moved out of his way like the parting of the red sea and he stepped into the line for food. No one spoke to him, in fact most people looked like they were making every attempt to ignore that he was even in the same room as them.

“Shit, whatever he did is obviously working for him. I’ve never seen a guard trip over their own feet around an inmate before.” Zyke turned back to the table and crossed his arms over his chest. He heard Roach’s breathy laugh beside him.

“Welcome to Toujour Prison. You’re either at the top or your stuck licking the officers boots at the bottom. ” Roach playfully bantered back, still pushing his cold mash around on his plate. “Is this your first time?”

Zyke shrugged. “At this prison, yes. But I’ve been.. in the ringer before, if that’s what your curious about.” He felt a presence come up behind him and his muscles tensed up at that. Zyke didn’t like people standing in his blind spot, especially in a place like this where shanks are liable to end up buried in exposed backs. The expression on Roach’s face didn’t change though so it quickly clicked in his head who had approached him from behind so easily.

“Roach, my man. I swear to god every time I see you you're looking taller and skinnier.” Strippin's voice was light hearted as he rested a hand on Zyke’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he did so. Zyke saw from his peripheral vision as Strippin's tray got placed down beside his.

Roach immediately went for it and without hesitation, pulled everything but the mash onto his own plate. He began digging in, forking back as much salad as he could. “You saw me yesterday.” He grumbled in between mouthfuls of food.

“And look at you, as tall as a stick and just about as brittle.” Strippin sat on the other side of the table and patted both hands on the surface like an excited kid at Christmas.

“Well not all of us get to eat like a king and carb up, you prick.” Roach threw a playful punch that connected with the meat of Strippin's shoulder. He seemed to regret doing that judging by the shake of his hand and the pained expression on his face.

Zyke watched the two of them talk with his chin resting on one hand. “Play nicely you two.” There was an amused expression on his face and he barely held in a snicker as Strippin reached forward and stole a carrot from Roach.

The leader of the Stripp gang loudly crunched it to spite the other inmate and delight danced in his sharp eyes. After a few moments of bullying Roach, he turned to take in Zyke. He gave him a once over as if seeing him for the first time. After a few seconds, he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and a snarky grin curled upon his lips. “Well well well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“I’d say the same for you but for a man incarcerated, you’re looking pretty good.” Zyke complimented with a respectable incline of his head.

Strippin scratched at his chin and leaned forward, looking as content as ever. With the way the guards had been treating him, undoubtedly he had quite the cozy time on the inside. “Haven’t heard word from you boys in a while. Was starting to think you forgot about me.” He brought his hands up to his face and pulled down the corners of his mouth with his index fingers in a mocking pout.

“Forget about you and what, leave you here to rot? No, we never forgot about you. Just.. had a lot of issues we had to deal with.” Zyke shook his head at that thought. The group was a disjointed family at the best of times but that didn’t mean they would leave one of their own sitting behind bars. Especially if they could do something about it.

Strippin seemed to sober up at that and his eyes went icy cold again. He looked somber and ready to get down to business. “I heard.” At Zyke’s expression he continued with a wave of his hand. “Hey, you think just because I’m stuck behind bars that I have no idea what’s going on out there?”

He looked over at Roach, who was still happily eating his meal. He was obviously listening in but was looking away to at least give them some semblance of privacy. “Hey, I heard what you boys did for Benji and I thank you for that. I was worried when I got grabbed that he would get into trouble. It’s alway nice, knowing that you all have our back.. Even in the worst of times.”

Zyke nodded in recollection. It may have been Criken’s idea to keep Benji under surveillance but it was Shayne who stepped in with his group to pick up the slack left behind. From the outside, the transition between leaders was a smooth one and Benji took over everything without a hitch. But from the inside, it had become apparent that Benji couldn’t fill the big shoes that Strippin had once been wearing. Shayne provided the man power necessary to keep the business operating while providing back up in case anyone else tried to wrestle in on his territory.

All in all, Sideshow had proved yet again that building bridges was more powerful than burning them like some other gangs did. They had done so in the past with numerous smaller groups. They brought them in slowly and offered benefits and positions to those seeking it. Just like the Wild Children who now made up a bulk of their forces, they wanted to expand their influence further with extended open hands before fists.

“Think nothing of it. We always take care of our own.” Zyke crossed his arms on the table in front of him and leaned forward in his seat with a little smile. “Speaking of which, shall we get down to business?”

Strippin batted an eyelash and grin coyly behind his hand. “Business? Oh, but whatever kind of business could you be talking about? I’ll have you know that I have done nothing wrong in my life.. ever.” He tried for an innocent look but gave up at the disbelieving glances he got from the other two seated at the table.

“Yeah, sure. I’m sure that held up well in the courts cause, you know, innocent people are usually found dishing out semi-automatics like they are candy.” Roach rolled his eyes and smirked, a stick of celery balanced between thumb and forefinger. He pointed at the man with it before taking a bite with a wet crunch.

“Regardless…” Strippin ignored his jest in favour of casting a casual gaze left and right. His sharp eyes slowly traced the room behind Zyke before he gave a subtle ‘go ahead’ nod. “I’m assuming the fact that Flimsii was in here a few days ago means you’ve got some gear coming in?”

“Yeah, told me the ‘coffee would be put on’ tomorrow.” Zyke grinned sheepishly. He scratched the back of his head and leaned back in seat, eyeballing the bright florescent lights overhead before looking back at Strippin. “Not that I know what that means. Never had to use a dead drop in Toujour before so I’m quite out of my depths here.”

“Roach.” Strippin gave the Lifer a inclination of his head and the man in question put down the drink he had been chugging like he was dying of dehydration. “Mind enlightening my friend here.”

Roach let out a long content sigh, covering his mouth just as he burped. “Yeah, yeah. I’m assuming that your vouching for him? Cause no offense my man. It’s not that I don’t like you Zyke but we didn’t get to this point by letting potential leaks go unchecked.”

“No offense taken. I’ve seen bigger ships sink from less.” Zyke shrugged with an easy smile on his face. He knew how this song and dance went. Strippin vouching for him was a big deal. If anything happens and it gets out that Zyke was the cause. It wouldn’t just be his reputation on the line, but Strippin's as well.

“Alright then.” Roach rested the fork back onto the tray and pushed it completely out of the way so he had room to rest his forearms. Once comfortable, he leaned his chin on his palms and looked between the two others and began to speak in a low tone. “There’s a second floor office that remains unlocked for a five hour interval every day. Because it belongs to the officers, it’s the perfect place to stash stuff without it being picked clean by nosey inmates.”

Roach tapped the table with two fingers and ran his fingers along the grain of wood as if tracing a map that only he could see. “You good with recalling directions?”

“I kind of have to be. It’s sort of in my job description.” Zyke offered with a shrug. He had many occasions in the past where the only thing that got him out of a deadly situation was his good memory and keen observation of the surrounding area.

“Right.” Roach closed his eyes and nodded again, tracing over the top of the table as he spoke. “Your up around the nineteen hundred cells right? That’s block C. When you hit the main hall, there’s the intersection that leads to the other cell blocks and one that goes off to the administrative buildings. One one way to get to the offices right?”

The gaunt man opened his eyes and grinned. “Wrong. There’s an old route that used to tie block B to the administrative buildings because that wing used to be the psychoanalytic playhouse. Once upon a time, people with mental illnesses were treated less than criminals and brought to that that area before it was deemed inhumane and finally repurposed.”

Strippin rose a hand to his chin a stroked his beard in recollection. “Jesus man, thanks for the history lesson. I really needed to know that.”

“Hey, it may been dark but it’s a valid part of history. Remember that those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it.” Roach pointed out, quite literally raising a finger and making a motion as if ticking something off a list.

“You’re just full of a bunch of philosophical bull tonight aren’t you?” Strippin grinned cheekily despite the topic at hand. His eyes lit up in amusement at how red Roach turned due to that comment.

“What can I say. They ordered in some old philosophy books by George Santayana and they’re pretty much the only thing I’ve been reading all week.”

Strippin sighed as if realizing something. He scratched at his forehead and gave Roach a pitying look, reaching over to pat the thin looking man on his shoulder. “Man, I need to talk to someone about getting you a conjugal visit or something cause this is getting ridiculous.”

Zyke rose a brow at Strippin, the drumming of his fingers had picked up as he waited for them to get back on topic. He had been sitting there quietly the whole time, just watching them bicker back and forth. His face must have really expressed his irritation because Roach coughed into his fist with a little ‘sorry’ and continued to describe the rest of the route for him.

“Cell block B has cells a thousand to fifteen hundred. Only about half of them are full though since most inmates close to their release dates get moved there. It’s not busy but because of that you’ll be recognized a hell of a lot faster if you stick around for too long. When the cells are open for daily recreation time, you’ll need to slip into one of the cells and be in the office before lockup.”

Zyke nodded, trying to recall what Criken had told him before he left. He had pointed out some conflictions between the original blue prints and the new layout that Toujour was going with now. “It’s at the back right? Something about the space between the two walls actually being thick enough to wall in between.”

“Yeah, hot water piping goes through there so you’ll have to crouch but it will lead you to the administrative building. Just don’t touch the pipes overhead, they’ll burn you if you even so much as graze them.”

“Wait, if you had a secret exit leading out the whole time, why didn’t you tell me so I could leave early?” Strippin inquired with a quirk of his brow. He looked at Roach with a pinched looked on his face. He didn’t appear happy at the prospect that he could have left a long time ago instead of waiting for rescue.”

Roach sighed and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Zyke. “That’s because the pathway doesn’t lead outside of the gate or even outside of any of the structures. It’s an old maintenance cavity that used to house all the old electrical wiring before Toujour was remodelled and given its new coat of paint.”

“Exactly. None of the other buildings have that much space in the walls to walk through. The biggest factor here is that not only is there enough room to walk from cell block B but ends of the entrance haven’t been sealed to the point where trying to open them would be damaging to the structural integrity.” Roach gave Strippin a mouringful look. “Sorry I never told you about it. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just a little put off that there is something going on in that I had no idea about.” Strippin appeared downtrodden about that fact. For a man who seemed to know everything, he looked less than impressed that something like that had been kept from him.

“If it makes it any easier, we had only just recently cracked through the other side of the wall.” Roach took another sip from his carton of milk. “Our other dead drop had become compromised. But you know all about that part.”

“Fucking Highrollers.” At the quizzical look he received from Zyke, Strippin continued. “Some prick learned about the dead drop and wanted in on the goods that were being brought in. It was a tenuous alliance at first, he got his cigarettes and we got our supplies for our people. Then the stupid shit set off the smoke detectors and when the guards asked how he managed to get his hand on a brand of cigarettes that they didn’t sell at the prison, he immediately pointed fingers and got a bunch of our boys life because of it.”

Roach squirmed in his seat uncomfortably at that and glanced away, not saying anything but his body language gave plenty away. He was swishing the milk carton in his hand and eying the liquid move around into the container with a neutral expression on his face.

“Luckily your boyfriend had given me enough dirt to ensure that the rest of his stay here would be most unpleasant.” Strippin grinned as if recalling a fond memory and he snickered to himself, eyes lighting up in glee.

Zyke sputtered and coughed into his fist to cover it up. “Shayne.. Shayne isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Funny… How did you know who I was talking about then?” Strippin asked with an innocent bat of his eyelashes before whistling a few notes to himself. His lips curled in a satisfactory grin. “Check mate.”

Zyke sighed and flopped forward till his head hit the table with a thud. His voice was muffled against the hard surface but the other two men could get the jist of what he was saying. “Can we please get back on track… my god.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again~
> 
> Finally back in the saddle and happily working on this project again. I've filled a small note book with so many sketches and notes for this au when I took a break from writing Feast your eyes that it almost felt like I never stepped away from it at all.
> 
> So happy to finally finish up this prison arc and start expanding my reach out into the rest of the world that I've slowly cobbled together. 
> 
> Thank you all for you unwavering patience with me. I know I've been putting this off for so long and making so many excuses but no more, I have so much to show you all and I hope you enjoy what i have planned for in the future.
> 
> I was so excited to put this up right away that I didn't even let Boffy beta this beforehand. (sorry hun, next chapter I promise)
> 
> See you all next chapter :)


	21. This one's on the house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow was the day. Plans had been discussed and friends in low places had been made. Whether Zyke was prepared or not, tomorrow was the only opening they had.
> 
> Like hell he was going to fail now.

Criken barely looked up from his work even as the bell toll sounded, signalling that someone was entering the Darkroom from the secret tunnel. He was too immersed in his work following a trail of money back to a government official that would make a perfect addition to their long list of ‘friends’. There was no such thing as too many people working for Sideshow. Especially when it came to the people who tried so hard to scrub their dirty deeds from the public eye. Nothing wrong with hanging out a little dirty laundry here or there to keep them on their toes.

 

His fingers were moving over his keyboard at almost lightning speed as he glanced back and forth between two different laptops. One was running through all the details that he accumulated over time, while he was using the other one to copy that information and compile it for his personal collection. Criken sat there facing the screens even as the door opened and said nothing to the person who entered the room but he slowed his typing as he listened for key details that would give the person away.

 

To say that he hadn’t expected anyone was an understatement. Criken hadn't been checking the clubs security footage at all while working. He did try to put off the air of knowing everything that was going on with everyone in the group but to be honest, that sort of dedication was too exhausting at times to uphold. Especially since the ones he usually kept an eye on were either off the radar, in prison or not talking to him anymore. Criken bit his tongue at that last one, knowing just how much he had fucked things between him and Tomato. The two of them hadn’t spoken since they sent Zyke and Lawlman into the prison and it was draining on him both emotionally and physically.

 

The figure that walked in was quiet which eliminated many of the people that had come to Criken’s mind so he almost flinched physically as the person stepped around into his peripheral vision and he recognized them with tired eyes as Bed grabbed the chair across from him. His expression remained neutral at the sight of him rotating it so he could sit on it backwards. 

 

Bed crossed his arms over the back of the chair and affixed him with a gaze that Criken hadn’t seen on the man in a long time. Usually such agitation was reserved for someone who was giving the Sideshow a rough time. Now it directed at him and it didn’t take a genius to conclude what that reasoning was. Bed was here to talk about Tomato. While Criken knew that the subject would be broached eventually, he wasn’t expecting it to happen in the middle of an important mission. He had assumed that Bed would be able to maintain at least a professional facade until all of their members were back safe and sound.

 

It’s what Tomato would do. 

 

Criken almost physically shook at that thought and had to take a slow, steady breath to maintain his stillness. That may be true but it was not Tomato he was dealing with right now. This was Bed. The man before him was not like his redheaded companion, who’s moods were easy to judge like the passing of a storm. He wasn't one to quietly brood and wait for the perfect timing to speak.

 

Bed may be patient as well but he was a different kind of patient. The man seated before him was like the tide, a constant licking at the shore, beautiful and dangerous at the same time. To swim out too deep is to be pulled into the current of madness of which the man thrived off of. Bed was not a ‘worst case scenario’ that one could plan for. He was always shifting, always redirecting, always inching ever closer to drag another away from the safety of the shore. 

 

Criken had to play his cards right with Bed. Getting angry wouldn't help the situation. So he settled for a muted look of interest. He'd remain the calm and collected of the two of them and come out victorious. What were the winning terms? It didn't matter. He was a quick learner. Criken watched Bed tilt his head to the side and all his plans suddenly shattered into a million pieces at the one word that fell from Bed’s lips.

 

“Well?” The brunette made an incline of his head and kept his gaze on Criken, his sharp eyes seemingly taking him apart with the emotional detachment of a kid picking wings off a fly. He looked so detached and yet far too invested in the topic at hand to just drop it at the top of a hat.

 

Criken almost withered at his look but a stubborn part of himself growled at the challenge. He hated how easily Bed knew how to get under his skin. One word and he already wanted to dive over the table and punch that look off his face. Criken had been with Sideshow long before he invited Bed to join and like hell he was going to stand down in the face of someone who stepped so easily into that cookie cutter shape that he had foolishly left open at Tomato’s side. That was his place and while it had been so long since he felt the other man's touch, he wasn’t going to just lower his head and let Bed push his way in. Call him territorial but he refused to pretend that he wasn’t aware of the happenings between the two of them. 

 

“Well what, my friend? Is there a problem?” Criken asked, the tone falling from his lip was all-too sickeningly sweet. He wasn’t about to give the other free reign over the conversation. If Bed wanted to crack open this iceberg of a topic, he was going to have to chip a lot deeper. There was no way Criken would allow himself to strain under that sharp gaze of his.

 

Bed shrugged, a subtle motion that was barely seen. He took a moment as if searching for something on Criken’s face. There was a long pause between the two of them that trailed off far longer that would have been comfortable. 

 

Criken maintained the stare for a few seconds longer before flicking his attention back to his laptop. If Bed had simply come here just to throw judgemental gazes at him and sit intimidatingly across from him than by all mean, he was welcome to it but he had work he had to do in the meantime. Criken could multitask under the man’s scrutiny. His fingers tented over the keys again, finding their place where he last left off and started to pick up typing. He had just started to crack down on the chief of police's background and was rummaging around for any questionable tidbits of info.

 

The keys only clicked for a few seconds though before Bed extended one hand forward and defiantly closed the lid of the laptop that Criken was copying his information from. The tapping stopped immediately and both eyes locked again. Both said nothing but their expressions said all. Ones gaze was filled with a deep seeded irritation while the other carried an equally defiant streak. Neither was budging.

 

Criken hated how easily the other man got to him. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his jaw was clenched tightly, an angry retort on his tongue. Not only had the man decided to come into his personal space and touch his belongings but he had the audacity of bringing his workflow to a halt. That was something that he would absolutely not stand for. “Bed.. If you require something than I suggest you speak up. I am not a mind reader, after all.”

 

“Oh I’m sure you already know what’s up. Contextual clues and all that.” Bed did not lift his hands from the top of the laptop at all and his eyes seemed to remain on his fingers for a few seconds before they trailed up lazily to Criken’s face. He let out a soft tutting noise. “Come now Criken. Playing stupid was never a good look on you.”

 

Criken knew exactly what the man was trying to lead him into and he had no intention of having this conversation here and now. Bed had no right to come here and demand him to explain his actions thus far. If anything, their roles should be reverse. Maybe he should show up during one of his hunts and just as he’s in the middle of stabbing some poor victim, slap the knife out of his hand. It would only seem fair, with their roles being reversed and all that. His lips curled in a frown and he leaned back from his laptop, trying to appear more lax. “Coming from you, I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

 

“Take it however you want. It doesn't change the fact that you’re deflecting.” Bed stated with an offhand gesture before returning his palm back onto the laptop. He continued to stare down Criken with that knowing look on his face but his attention was diverted momentarily when he heard another door open. 

 

Someone else was coming  in from the clubroom entrance, the sound of shoes growing louder as they came down the stairs. The handle jiggled for a second before it opened slowly and Sput walked in. He closed the door with a kick of his foot, walking past the two glaring at each other and made his way towards the bar.

 

Sput was carrying a cardboard box in both hands and from the way he walked, it was apparent he could barely see over the row of bottles sticking out of the top. The glass clinked with every step and he was humming a little tune to himself before he passed by the two men seated in the temporary command station that Criken had set up. He must have assumed Criken was alone cause he started to talk to him despite his back being turned.

 

“Yo, finally got that stock of Tiamat’s Breath that Dave has been raving non-stop about. Can you believe how hard it was to get ahold of just twelve bottles?” Sput rambled out loud, directing his question to over his shoulder as he walked over to the bar. His back was to the two of them so he was unaware of Bed having entered the room earlier. He was also unaware of the tension of the room as he pulled out bottle after bottle of the newly acquired liquor.

 

Sput lifted one of the bottles to the light and marvelled at the gorgeous imprint in the glass. The entire thing was black like obsidian and was covered in the grooves of dragon scales. There was an old parchment label on the front and the description on the bottle was detailed with gorgeous calligraphy and a wax seal to complete the look. Sput whistled low and placed the bottle back down delicately as if fearful of breaking it. 

 

“Man I am telling you. Dave better appreciate the work I put into acquiring his stock cause stuff like this doesn’t exactly come cheap and-” Sput turned to face Criken and his words trailed off as he caught sight of Bed sitting there. He brightened up and gave a little friendly wave before his smile wavered as he realized neither man was looking at him. 

 

In fact, neither of them were moving in the least, both appearing to be in some sort of quiet standoff. He eyed Bed’s hand that he had placed firmly on top of the laptop and his throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “O-Ohh dear. Well, this is..”

 

Bed took that moment to glance over in his direction and a physical shiver went down Sput’s spine at the ice within that stare. The bartender turned pale as a sheet of paper and raised his hands up in mock surrender. “You know, whatever is it you two have going on.. And not that I don’t care cause I do... But, god guys, whatever it is. Don’t take it out on the bar.” Sput took a deep breath and tried to speak up and sound more confident than he was feeling at that moment. But how was he supposed to sound brave when it looked like his boss (technically speaking, of course) and their friendly neighbourhood cannibal was about to go toe to toe in the middle of the Darkroom on a moments notice. 

 

The tension in the air was palpable. It was almosting choking how heavy the atmosphere felt and the two of then weren’t even saying anything at all, they were just staring each other down like they wanted to ignite the other with their eyes. Sput cleared his throat and indicated with a thumb over his shoulder to the cardboard box. “I just restocked so please, I really don’t want to disinfect the floors again. If you guys are going to kill each other at least take it to Garrott.” 

 

Criken spoke up without taking his eyes off Bed for a second. “Sput, why don’t you take the day off.” His voice was devoid of all emotion but it sounded two tones deeper, almost like a growl. It left no room for arguments from the bartender who was still standing nearby, slack jawed and worried.

 

“Fuck this. You don’t have to tell me twice.” Sput reached over the bar and grabbed his backpack stashed behind the aquarium glass with sweaty palms. He threw it over one shoulder and quickly, almost to the point of running, made his way to the stairs leading up to the club. Just as he touched the railing, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. Neither of them had moved and he exhaled heavily, thankful for the first time that he wasn’t opening tomorrow. If blood was going to be shed at least it was someone else's problem, not his. With that in mind, he made his quick escape from the stagnant air of tension that was suffocating the Darkroom.

 

***

 

Lunchtime in the cafeteria was slowly coming to a close but it seemed like the three men sitting together had managed to lay out the pros and cons in regards to accessing the administrative building. While Criken had sent Zyke in there with an excellent exit strategy, a plan to actually get ahold of the supplies needed was sorely lacking. Thankfully, Roach was very informed on the happenings inside the prison and by the time the last few minutes ticked to a close, their strategy finally came into fruition. 

 

Roach had given Zyke all the important details he needed and by the end of lunch, he felt more confident in hitting their dead drop and breaking out of the prison with Strippin in tow. It was not fool proof by any means but Zyke was anything but a ‘play by the books’ kind of guy. He could improvise if things got too out of hand. It was one of his strongest feats. Especially since he had plenty of information to go off of. 

 

Criken had provided him blueprints and locations of junction boxes and electrical breakers that could force areas to go into lock down and buy them time if need be. While Roach had provided the details regarding guard patrols and which cells he could guarantee assistance from if he got into a bad situation. In the end, they had all decided that Roach would pass on the details to Lawlman tonight and update him on the going-ons before they proceeded tonight with their plan.

 

Interestingly enough, from what Roach had told him, Percussion and Gmart were also within the prison. Zyke rose a brow at that, the question must have been written all over his face because Strippin answered him without needing any prompting.

 

“They came here because Doogs threatened to cut their quote on quote ‘babymakers’ off if they left me in here alone.” Strippin sounded very proud of the threat towards his own men and knowing how much he loved Dodger, Zyke had no doubt that the man would allow her to carry it out if she desired to do so. 

 

That had a subtle shiver go down his spine at that thought. Those two really brought a whole new meaning to ‘love makes you do crazy things’. Zyke recalled what Boon had told him about a week ago when he went to check on her and their baby, Clarke. He watched the fear in his fellow hitman’s eyes grow as he recalled how she asked about Strippin. She had been all too sweet about the situation, inquiring about when they were going to break her husband out of prison while casually flipping knives in the air. Needless to say, Boon got very drunk that night and Zyke had to carry him home.

 

“That’s… good, I suppose. We can use the extra support to brute force our way out if things get really hairy. But really, Lawlman and I should have everything covered.” 

 

“Sounds good. Once you boys are geared up and good to go, the rest should be a cake walk.” Strippin nodded at that before turning his attention back to Roach who was quietly murmuring about the number of people becoming involved with their plan. He made a noise in the back of his throat and tapped the table with two fingers. Roach and Zyke looked over at him. He gave Zyke a wary look, lips set in a firm line. “Make sure you don’t get caught before that or it’s both our asses on the line, you hear?”

 

“Hey! What do I look like to you, some ammature? I can carry my own weight.” Zyke puffed up at his friends insinuation of his skills despite knowing that Strippin was most likely just yanking his chain. The man rose his hands up in surrender at him and Zyke let out a little huff of laughter. “You just make sure your actually up and ready to go when we cut the power.”

 

“For you sweetheart? I’ll be up and at ‘em whenever you need me.” Strippin winked at Zyke.

 

Roach cleared his throat before they could argue further and drummed his fingers over the table. “I’d hate to break up your little flirting but we have a nosy neighbour making his way over now.”

 

Strippin didn’t show any sign of hesitation and rotated in his body to face another inmate storming over with a sneer afixed on his face. He gave the man a slow once over before recognition flickered in his gaze and a lazy smirk curled across his lips. The ability to look calm in the face of any situation and infuriate the people around him while doing so was a skill that Strippin alone seemed to possess. “Well well well.. If it ain’t one of my little bitches.”

 

The inmates snarl only seemed to grow at that loving nickname given to him by Strippin. His fist rose up in front of his face and he took another step forward. “If it ain’t the little snitch. Heard that you’ve been talking shit and you didn’t think that I would hear about it?”

 

Roach looked incredulous at the man sitting next to him who had burst out laughing. He seemed confused as Zyke lifted a hand up to cover his snickers up but he couldn’t stop the shakes of his shoulders. “Sorry about that but-” 

 

All eyes were on him now and Zyke gave the inmate a cheeky grin. He gave a little hum and swayed his head a little as he started to sing, picking up from where the man had left off. “That’s right, put your pom-pom’s down. Get everybody fired up.”

 

Strippin tilted his head back and let out a single burst of laugh. His booming tone carried over the cafeteria and many inmates glanced over with intrigued expressions on their faces. Regardless if they wanted it or not, they now had an audience. Strippin leaned forward again, all too amused by the antics going on before him and added to Zyke’s little song. “He ain’t no hollaback girl.”

 

The prisoner standing in front of him turned red at how no one was taking him seriously. He stomped his foot and took another threatening step forward. “Shut the fuck up!” He was standing less than a foot from Strippin now and the difference in height was much easier to see. Despite him standing and Strippin sitting down, they were almost at eye level. “You think you can just come in here and lounge around like you own the place?”

 

“As opposed to?” Strippin trailed off with a snarky little grin and looked down at his nails as if unbothered by the man having a temper tantrum before him. He let his words hang in the air for a few seconds as he thought more on the matter, looking up again with a bored quirk to his brow. “You boys? Oh, right.. I almost forgot. You Highrollers seem to think your still the big boys on the block.”

 

“Listen here, hermano. We’ve been here the longest.” The irate man crossed his arms over his chest, his rolled up sleeves showing off the tattoo worn there. A fanned out hand of four cards, each one bearing the different suits on them was inked bright and proud on the skin there. He leaned forward into Strippin’s personal space and got into his face. “If anything, you’re playing in our neighbourhood. Not the other way around.”

 

Zyke tightened his grip on the bench till his knuckles turned white. He stayed seated but kept his eye on the Highroller before him, ready to act in case he pulled a weapon on Strippin. A subtle bump against his shoulder drew his attention to Roach who was giving him a dissuading look. He seemed to be trying to convey an emotion through his eyes.

 

Thinking on that, Zyke glanced back over at Strippin to see that the man didn’t look put off at the least. His body was as lax as it had been when he first took a seat at the table. The whole scene before him was like a small cat raising its hackles up to appear bigger and badder. That had the tight grip at his sides loosen up. If anything broke out, Zyke had no doubt that the man could handle himself. He doubted he would need to step in to stop a blood bath from occurring.

 

“Ever stopped to think that maybe your bad attitude is the reason why you boys are in here in the first place? Hmm?” Strippin offered in a calm tone, unbothered at all by the closeness of the others face to his. He crossed his arms over his chest and just sat there, egging the other on. “I mean, I’m in here of my own volition. What’s your excuse?”

 

The Highroller let out a hiss of breath between his clenched teeth and a vein pulsed in the side of his neck. It looked like Strippin’s words had the desired effect and may have cause the other to blow a blood vessel. He looked about to say something but he was leaned in so close that Strippin acted first and used the distance to his advantage. The prisoner’s eyes went wide and bugged out in shock as a kiss was planted on the tip of his nose with a loud lip smacking noise.

 

Strippin leaned back after that and got comfortable in his seat, taking great pleasure in the pained and embarrassed expression that flashed across the Highroller’s face. His gaze lazily drifted to the Correctional officer who had seen his display and was quickly walking over to intercept before a fight broke out. He didn’t need to say or do anything else as the guard grabbed the inmate’s raised fist before it could come down.

 

“Now now, enough of that.” The officer berated, pulling the Highroller away from Strippin. At the man’s struggles, he forced him head first onto another nearby and began the process of handcuffing him. “I said settle down!”

 

As the snarling man was being led away, he struggled to glance over his shoulder at Strippin. His face was still affixed in a seething snark but his cheeks and ears burned bright red as the man waggled his fingers in his direction. The Highroller squirmed a few more steps in the guards grip before he was forced to relax as another one came over to grab his other arm. They made short work of the man, carrying him off balance back to his cells.

 

Zyke clapped once at the display that had taken place in front of him. “Bravo. That was superb. Tell me there’s an encore.”

 

“Hang around my cell block sometime. The fun never ceases there.” Strippin replied easily, already making the motions of standing back up. He made a big show of stretching and his back clicked loudly. Two more clicks and he lowered his arms again with a satisfied exhale. “I have one neighbour who likes to yoddle and the other likes to shout at two in the morning every day about porcelain dolls.”

 

“Sounds like a fun crowd.” Zyke glanced over at Roach who was shaking his head in disagreement. “I didn’t get anyone fun in my block. Then again.. I’ve only been here a day.”

 

Strippin shrugged. A smirk crossed his lips in recollection and he scratched at his beard one handedly, offering the other to help Zyke stand. “Well it certainly makes it easy to tell when it’s two in the morning for those that don’t have clocks. Guess it’s one of the perk of being an inside guy. Comfy room, good food, ceaseless entertainment..” 

 

Roach shook his head as Strippin counted the perks on his fingers and stacked the trays neatly on top of one another. “No. That is the perk of a man who has the beef to back up his claims. Seriously, have you even noticed that the weight equipment is getting used more often since you showed up? Your presence pretty much threatened everyone else's masculinity.”

 

“Everyone except Larry. That man is an intimidating figure all on his own.” Strippin trailed off, eyeing a certain prisoner who just walked into the cafeteria. He looked warily at the tall figure who stood almost a head taller than anyone else lingering in the room.

 

Zyke followed his gaze at his words. He didn’t recognize the name and Roach hadn’t mentioned him either but the way the other two tensed up immediately put him on his guard. He looked over to see a very tall man walking in with slow, lumbering steps. Zyke had to stop the nervous look from crossing his face at the sight of the man’s dark and burnt flesh. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the prisoner who was parting the crowd like the red sea. Was he very old or was he just heavily burned? He had no idea and that fact worried him quite a bit.

 

Larry looked almost inhuman with his tall, gaunt features and sunken eyes. His skin was blackened like he had been victim to severe burns that were never given the opportunity to heal properly. The man’s eyes were so dark they almost looked completely black, the pupils so blown, they swallowed the sclera whole. In fact, the only bit of white that stood out on his body were the teeth, his lips being so burned and curled back that they were revealed in a constant sneer. 

 

A shiver ran down Zyke’s spine and he averted his gaze just as the tall, creepy man started to glance in his direction. He chewed his lower lip and leaned closer to Strippin, giving him a nudge with his elbow. “What the fuck… Who is that guy?” 

 

Roach had returned from turning in the trays almost as quickly as he had left and took up position next to Zyke, nodding at his valid inquiry. “That's Larry. He's one of the D boys.”

 

Zyke rose a brow at Roach in confusion and the man continued, while making a conversational gesture with his hand. “You know, cell block D?”

 

“Ah yes, of course.. I knew that. Totally...” Zyke trailed off nervously, pretending he had an idea when in all honesty, he hadn't a clue. He hadn't been informed about that cell block. Then again, it had nothing to do with the plan so it would have just been useless knowledge but still. 

 

He looked back over at Larry. It certainly would have been nice to know crazy people like him were just casually lurking around the prison. Zyle was still glancing at him warily as a few correctional officers began to close the distance between them and Strippin. He backed off before they could get a good look at him and ducked behind the large imposing form of Strippin.

 

“Yeah, we don’t talk about that guy..” Strippin murmured under his breath and continued to move towards the exit. He gave Roach one last respectful incline of his head who had slipped back into the crowd and disappeared from view. “Take good care of yourself my man.” 

 

He didn’t receive a response but neither of them expected on from the mousey figure who faded into the sea of orange jumpsuits. Once it was just the two of them, Strippin parted to take the attention away from Zyke and allowed himself to be escorted back to his isolation wing by two guards. “Hey Jim, my man. You're looking good. Did you lose weight since I last saw you?”

 

The guard seemed all too used to his behavior and just shook his head. “You saw me this morning Sam. C'mon, let’s get you back to you room”

 

“No but seriously. You’re looking more imposing than usual. What it is?”

 

“Well, I'm not wearing the tie today.” The guard humoured him with a smile. His attention was completely off Zyke now, allowing the hitman to slip away unnoticed.

 

Zyke watched him be led away and after ducking around the corner for a second, stepped back out once the coast was clear and watched the guards lead Strippin away. He stood there for a few seconds, shoulders being bumped by the crowd as the passed by him to get in and out of the cafeteria. A determined look graced his features and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. It was time to get to work. 

 

Tomorrow was the day. Plans had been discussed and friends in low places had been made. Whether he was prepared or not, tomorrow was the only opening they had. Him and Lawlman would have to make every second count. He only hoped that Roach would manage to get ahold of the other man. Otherwise, explaining everything in detail while working could end up being detrimental to their success.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put this up on mobile so I apologize in advance for any weird spacing. I'll have to fix it later.


	22. Last one out, hit the lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We came in here together, we leave the same way.” The two came close and tapped their masks together in a show of camaraderie and Lawlman ruffled Zyke’s hair as they maintained that pose for a moment. 
> 
> At this distance, they could almost pretend that they were meeting each others eyes from behind the masks.

***

An hour after Zyke had left the cafeteria, found Lawlman sitting there alone with his tray of food. He had positioned his back to the wall and was nervously eying the room in case the guards decided to get handsy with him again. His ribs still ached and the mark at his cheek had blossomed bigger, the bruising appearing dark purple. He really didn’t want to get more battered before their break out tomorrow.

He glanced down at the food on his tray and was dejected at the meal before him. It was edible food but obviously that was all that mattered in this prison. The quality was much to be desired. On his plate was a stale bun, some salad, a scoop of a greyish mash and two slices of some unidentifiable meat. After a quick sniff and a nibble, he identified it as turkey and put it back down on the plate with a quiet huff. Lawlman hadn’t eaten since dinner last night but he didn’t really have an appetite. He missed being able to order whatever he desired and cook how often he wanted. Prison really sucked.

Percussion returned to Lawlman after several minutes of being at another table and he sat down, grimacing and scratching the back of his neck. He let out a long exhale of breath and glanced around before leaning forward on the table. His weight was rested on his elbows and he got more comfortable in his seat before speaking up. “Alright, I’ve gotten in touch with Roach. Everything is good to go tonight.”

“You okay man? You look a bit stressed.” Lawlman quirked a brow at the man seated across from him. He hadn’t been eating while he waited for Percussion to come sit with him, instead choosing to push around the food on his plate with his fork. The salad didn’t exactly look appetising to begin with anyways.

“Yeah it’s fine. I just got a bit of a reprimand from Roach for supposedly getting more people involved in the grand scheme.” Percussion lifted the bottle of water off his tray and took a sip before continuing in an indignant tone. “Cause, you know, getting the actual people involved the info they need is apparently troublesome.”

Lawlman tilted his head as he listened but his eyes remained on his tray, shifting the pieces of lettuce from one side of the plate to the other. He was amused by the exasperated tone in percussion’s words and wasn’t afraid to show it with a little smirk. “Roach? That’s… an interesting name.”

Percussion made a noise in the back of his throat, eyeing a correctional officer that passed by their table before he spoke up. “Yeah, he's an interesting one to say the least. Don't worry though. We got everything settled for tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“I'll give you details in our cell tonight.” Percussion grabbed the back of his neck and rolled his head till it made a crack noise. He let out a content sight and smirked. “Trust me, your going to love what Strippin and Zyke planned out.”

***

That night, once the two of them were locked in their cell again, Percussion quietly went over the floor plan with Lawlman and they both prepared for the morning. The sun started to rise and they could hear Gmart stirring in his room next door, grumbling about how he had to run laps for hours at a time. He took a long time getting up and by the time he approached the bars to listen in, Percussion had already finished explaining things and was now sitting on the bed tying his shoelaces.

“No, I’m not going to repeat myself just cause you were too lazy to come over and listen the first time.” Percussion wasn’t hearing any of Gmart’s complaints and he just shook his head at Lawlman with a little self satisfying smirk on his face. “You ready over there?”

Lawlman had removed the overalls from his shoulders to expose the white shirt underneath. He tied the arms of the orange jumpsuit around his waist. If he was going to get into a physical altercation, he had to ensure that his body was free to move around as needed. Until he reached the dead drop with all of their gear, he would be essentially defenseless so not having sleeves hindering him was a definite must. Lawlman gave Percussion a nod after stretching his arms over his head. “I’m good to go. Just make sure that nosey guard doesn’t catch me wandering off, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I got the perfect distraction for you.” Percussion grinned and tilted his head in the direction of Gmart’s cell. “And by that I mean, I’ll get our little troublemaker on that.”

“What are you guys talking about over there?!” Gmart whispered loudly through the bars of his cell. Despite his low tone, it carried down a few rows and someone made an agitated shushing noise in response. “Oh… Sorry..”

Lawlman snickered at that and approached the door, bracing his hands against the bars as the seconds ticks by. The sun was now up and shining through the windows of the prison indicating that it was morning and he knew it was only a matter of time before the doors opened to let them all go to breakfast. Of course, he wouldn't be heading there at all but the guards wouldn’t know about that until it was too late.

Just as that thought came to mind, there was a loud buzzing that resounded along the rows of cells and slowly they all opened in sync. The intercom came on and a guard announced the date and time in a monotonous tone as other Officers started pacing the two aisles of cells. There was only two of them, one on either side of the room slowly walking back and forth on the second story above them. They could still peer over the edge and watch those on the floor below due to the open concept of the floorplan but for the most part, they appeared focused on their own sections.

Percussion and Lawlman walked out of their cell and gave a subtle glance above them. They could see the bottom of the guards boots through the grates overhead and they both walked in time underneath him, staying out of view. Gmart caught up with them as they paused in time with the man standing on the floor above them and he gave them both a critical look. “What’s the plan?”

“Make some friends.” Percussion responded, indicating with a slow jerk of his head towards the female guard on the second story. She was leaning on the railing and was looking downwards but hadn’t caught sight of them yet. It wouldn’t be long though before she took notice of them though and she would serve as an excellent distraction for their plan.

Gmart groaned and brought both hand up to his face to scratch at his scalp in irritation. He was less than impressed that he was being used as bait yet again. “Seriously… you know she’s not going to make me run laps this time. She’ll just beat my ass with that stick she’s carrying at her hip.”

“Then take one for the team.” Lawlman offered with a casual shrug of his shoulders. He got an unimpressed look from Gmart and he shot him a look back that dared him to argue further before he returned to glancing over at the path that would take him to Cell block B with trepidation. Once he made it there, blending in will be a lot harder. If he was caught before he got to that tunneled cell, he’d be in big trouble. “Look, I don’t care what you do. Just make sure she isn’t looking over here when I leave.”

With that, he started taking slow steps backwards. He was still facing in the direction of the cafeteria but he was inching his way further and further away from the crowd of people still coming out of their cells. The guard above turned her head in his direction and Lawlman’s stomach was suddenly tied in knots as their eyes met. Her head tilted to the side as if assessing his strange movements and she lifted her weight of the railing to bring a hand to her radio.

“Yo, is it hot for anyone else in here or is it just me?!?” Both her and Lawlman looked over in the direction of the yelling to see Gmart stripping off his jumpsuit completely. He kicked off the orange material and pulled the shirt off next. Once down to his boxers, he picked up the rest of his clothes off the ground and bundled it up in his arms. The rest of the other inmates watched with mixed looks of confusion and bewilderment as he pointed up at the female guard who pointed back at him and yelled for him to put his clothes back on. “Don’t act like you don’t like it Catherine. I know you’ve been wanting a piece of this since I showed up!”

The guard’s attention was immediately off Lawlman and she was running over to Gmart with an angry expression affixed on his face. Her face was beet red and she had her baton at the ready as Gmart was leisurely swinging his jumpsuit over his head, egged on by the whistles of various other prisoners. He tossed it in her direction and gave a cheeky little grin as it landed on her head. “Come get some!”

Lawlman wasn’t about to take this opportunity for granted and didn’t bother with subtly anymore. He completely turned around and walked at a fast pace towards the end of the hallway with a large ‘B” painting overhead. He got to the doorway without any altercations with nearby guards and he glanced behind him to see Gmart tossing his jumpsuit up to the guard, who caught it with an angry bat of her hands. Lawlman had to give credit where credit was due, the man certainly knew how to get people going when he wanted to. With that in mind and a little smirk on his face, he ducked into the hallway and made the journey pass another room full of cells.

The next room was more vacant as most of the prisoners had already made their way to the cafeteria. Less inmates mulling about meant he stood out in the open a lot more. that fact would have worried him had he not been informed of Zyke’s plans earlier. Sure enough, looking up on the second floor he could see two large inmates on the catwalk above yelling and throwing punching at one another. There were several guards trying to hold them back but it was obvious neither men were listening to their demands to stop.

“I kid, you mom’s cool. Can’t wait till she visits again so I can really show my appreciation.” The first prisoner laughed, the sound loud and raunchy as he egged on the man he was fighting. He made a crude gesture with his hands and ducked under one of the guards arms as they attempted to grab ahold of him.

The other inmate snarled loud like an animal and managed to grab a handful of the others hair, pulling him into a punch. He got off a few quick strikes before he was tackled to the ground. His arms were forced behind his back and he continued to struggle and scream even as he was handcuffed. “Let me at him!! I’ll kill him!! No one talks about my mama like that and gets away with it, you hear?!”

“Tell her Jeremy said hi.” The first prisoner taunted as he was restrained in a headlock, making kissing noises at the other man who was still pinned to the ground by two other guards.

Lawlman just shook his head at the situation playing out on the second floor. He had no idea how Zyke managed to pull that off but a part of him felt like he was better not knowing. Using the loud distraction to his advantage, Lawlman finally got out of his cell block and ended up in a hallway that was painted a different colour to the rest of the prison. There was a large ‘B’ stenciled on the way indicating that he had made it past the point of no return. If he was caught now, there was no going back. He didn’t make eye contact with the camera overhead, trying to keep his pace even as he walked towards the cells like he belonged there.

He counted the numbers over each door. A few inmates gave him curious look as he passed by their rooms but none looked like they were planning on getting in his way at all. And why would they. Their rooms looked much nicer than the one he had stayed in. For one they actually have beds instead of cots and shelves full of books. He swore that he had caught sight of one prisoner giving another a haircut and Lawlman grit his teeth as he realized how much nicer the people in Cell block B were treated. Then again, these were people who were nearing the end of their sentence. Undoubtedly, they had earned those leisure items.

Lawlman lost track of the numbers as he had been taking in the state of the room around him and he yelped as a hand closed around the front of his shirt and pulled him face first into one at random. He stumbled once before balancing himself out on the balls of his feet and both hands came up to defend himself when he caught sight of who had been the one to grab him. Zyke was standing there with a fistful of his shirt, grinning from ear to ear at his reaction.

“Hey man, you look jumpy. I didn’t startle you did I?”

Lawlman pulled his shirt free from Zyke’s loosening grip and ran a hand down the front to smooth out any wrinkles. His eyes were diverted as he tried to play off his surprise with a nonchalant shrug. “Startle me? My guy, do you even know who your talking to here? You can’t scare me.”

Zyke made a noise in the back of his throat like he didn’t believe him but didn’t say anything else on the matter. “Regardless. It’s good to see that plans actually worked out for once. Well..” He trailed off as he thought more about that, his eyes glancing over towards the small dividing wall that hid the shower from view.

“What did you do?” Lawlman sighed, already coming to the realization that something was up. He followed Zyke as he walked around the shover divider and his brows raised to his hairline at the sight of two guards unconscious and handcuffed together. One of the men had a dark bruise that was starting to blossom across his face and Lawlman felt something tickle at the back of his mind before he came to a sudden realization. “Wait, I know that guy.”

“Yeah man. That’s one of the little shits that roughed you up when you showed up, remember? At the truck?” Zyke gave the unconscious form a little kick in the rib and the man groaned behind what looked like a towel wadded up in his mouth. He heaved out but remained passed out. “I saw him on the way here and decided, you know what.. No one fucks with my boys and gets away with it.”

Lawlman felt pride well up in his chest and could almost kiss Zyke right then and there for how generous he was. Though he doubted that Shayne would be happy with him doing that. Even when on a mission that had a deadline, the other hitman was always thinking about him and showing him a consideration that others didn’t usually do. “Well I definitely owe you one in the future.”

“You owe me nothing. We’re family. We look out for one another.” Zyke had a pained expression on his face and glanced towards the fake wall next to the shower. He rested a hand on the drywall but looked hesitant to press forward. Lawlman gave him a quizzical look and gasped as Zyke finally looked back at him with a fire in his eyes. “I honestly felt bad when I saw you during yard time. I should have done something to stop that from happening.”

Lawlman exhaled slowly and a small smile found its way across his face. He reached forward and gave the others shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Zyke, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I wish I could have done something more though.” Zyke’s tone was one full of regret and he trailed off like he wanted to say more but the hand on his shoulder kept him grounded. He looked up through blonde hair and tried for a shaky smile. “We should probably get going yeah?”

Lawlman gave him a nod and let his hand fall after giving one last reassuring squeeze. He stepped back to allow his partner in crime to lead the way, Zyke having more details of the going on’s in the prison than he did. After all he had been here before, or at least he had insinuated on multiple occasions that he had. Zyke never really spoke about his past to him but Lawlman could only assume from what Shayne had told him before they left that he must have had a hard childhood growing up.

He remembered Shayne pulling him off to the side while Zyke was upstairs in the club. The two of them were in the Darkroom by themselves, a first since Criken had all but claimed the space since he torched his last safehouse. Lawlman remembered the smirk on his face die down as he saw the expression on Shayne’s. The little flirty jest he had withered on his tongue and he gave him a worried look.

“Keep an eye on Zyke in there for me.” Was all he said but his eyes spoke a thousand more things that Lawlman didn’t have time to try and decipher. Shayne gaze burned into his, daring him to question or to argue with him but receiving none.

Lawlman just swallowed heavily and nodded at the Wild Child leader. Just as fast as Shayne had grabbed him to speak, he was pulling away and making his way back up the stairs, up to the club.. Back to Zyke.

“Hey.. Hey! You okay?”

Lawlman was shaking free from his thoughts as Zyke snapped his fingers in front of his face. He glanced around to get his bearings again and shrugged off the man’s worry with an easy shrug. “Yeah I’m good. Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

“Uh huh sure.. Well while you were in lala land I opened up the tunnel.” True to his words, Zyke had grabbed the edges of a portion of drywall and had eased it from its cookie cutter position in the wall. The inside surface of the drywall piece had a small leather strap nailed to it in a makeshift handle that Zyke grabbed ahold of to keep it from falling too far out of the tunnels opening. “Watch your head. Hot water pipes above you.”

The opening was a tight squeeze but Lawlman pushed through first and entered the space between the two walls. He was standing on an old scaffolding that had to have been there since the day the prison was first built. The metal groaned under his boot but didn’t give away which was a good sign. There were bright red pipes that followed the pathway above his head and he had to duck into a crouch so his head didn’t touch the sizzling metal. They were positioned horizontally and led in two directions. One went to several feet straight before taking a turn while the other just seemed to keep on going. “Which way?” Lawlman whispered as the entrance was pulled closed again behind him by Zyke.

The blonde glanced up at him with squinting eyes as he tried to see past the man’s shoulder and get an idea of which way. “There should be a mark. A sideways question mark or something.” He was crouched on one knee to keep his head from grazing the pipes and he pointed at the walls on either side of Lawlman’s shoulders.

There was only an inch of space so shuffling in a crouch was not the most comfortable but eventually after a few nerve wracking seconds, Lawlman picked out a white mark written with chalk half hidden behind an elbow shaped pipe. “Got it. It’s over here.” He crawled forward and lead the way, knowing that they had to move fast if they wanted to get to the dead drop in time.

They travelled in almost perfect silence between the walls, the only noise being the occasional creak of metal under their shoes. Sweat had begun to bead at Lawlman’s brow and he could feel the heat spreading across his shirt, making his movements much more uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to get out from the sweltering heat that he had willingly crawled into. How someone used this tunnel and often was beyond him. They must have developed an immunity to the humidity.

“Fuck, I’m gonna… need like… fifty baths after this.” Zyke panted behind him. From the sounds of things, he was taking the temperature worse than Lawlman. His steps had changed and once glance over his shoulders confirmed that Zyke was now on his hands and knees, uncaring of the reddish rust that stained his palms. “God my legs are… cramping something awful.”

Lawlman was about to retort when he caught sight of a rope in front of him. It dangled in his face and he paused, sitting on his haunches to follow the sight of it up. The rope was tied to the pipe overhead but didn’t have anything hanging from it. There were no other marks hidden around and he was prepared to pass it when he heard a very familiar voice through the wall to his right.

“Yeah, it’s been a slow one. But truth be told I’d take a week of nothing over a day of sitting in here.” There was a laugh and a door opened and closed. Lawlman leaned close to the wall, almost pressing an ear to it so he could hear the voices better.

“You say that but I doubt you’d pass up an opportunity for a cozy retirement.”

“You say cozy, I say boring. Seriously, how have you lost your mind from the constant banging bars?” There was a click of a lock turning one then twice and the voice grew muffled as the person was walking away. “At least when I’m bored out the beat, I can go off and do my own thing. You guys on the other hand are-”

Lawlman glanced over at Zyke and the two shared a squinting glance between them. “Was that Flimsii?”

“Good, that means our drop is here.” Zyke nodded slowly after a moments contemplation.

Lawlman shook his head. “In an office that he just locked.”

“That would pose to be a problem if he actually locked it.” Zyke looked thoughtfully his hands. He was still on his knees, rubbing the orange stained palms on his trousers and trying to get as much of the grimy rust off his hands as he spoke. “But I do believe I heard him click the lock twice.”

“Alright, let’s keep moving then. I’m assuming the entrance into this wing is really close.” Lawlman pointed ahead of him, now noticing a white marking in the distance. It was indecipherable at this distance but if he crawled a little closer, he’d be able to tell what it was.

Zyke chuckled behind him before letting out a heavy huff. He got back onto his hands and began following right behind him as Lawlman started moving once more. “I can only hope. I’d rather fight all the guard by hand than be in here one more minute.”

Lawlman brushed the dangling rope away from his face and pushed past it. A few second of crawling later and he threw back a casual warning. “Watch the rope.”

“What rope- ow..” Zyke make a noise in the back of his throat and from the sounds of things, batted the offending rope away from him angrily till it hit the drywall with a thump. “Okay, that one. I see it now. Thank you.”

Lawlman let out a little laugh at the other hitman’s behaviour and came to a stop again right next to the next chalk mark. Although he didn’t really need it anymore as he could see light seeping into the tunnel from a thin cut out in the wall. He gave it a little push and the drywall made a scratching noise as it slide out of its placement. Before it could fall and hit the ground, Lawlman grabbed the edge and lowered it gently so it didn’t break.

The opening that was now exposed had been partially hidden away by the fact that it was at the end of a hallway and right behind a tall ficus. There was a vending machine next to the plant and Lawlman tucked the piece of drywall there safely before pushing his weight out from the hole. His feet touched the ground and seeing that the hall was clear, he extended his hands above his head in a long, leisurely stretch. “I swear I am never going back in such a tight knit place like that again.”

“Amen to that.” Zyke responded once he was out as well. He grimaced at the rust on his hands and looked back at the hole in the wall. “You’ll need to put that back for us. If I do it, I’ll just leave marks.” He wiggled his fingers to show off the orange stains on his palm.

“Right, I’ll take care of that. You go ahead and scout things out.” Lawlman didn’t have to say much more than that. The two of them had worked plenty of times in the past and had quickly fallen into the zone. They were a cohesive unit and worked well together on jobs. He plugged the tunnel up again and took a step back to see if the fake plant had it covered nicely. Once things looked nice and inconspicuous, he jogged down the hall to catch up to Zyke.

There was a camera pointing in the direction of the door that lead to their dead drop but Lawlman felt no nervousness at the prospect of getting caught. They had no intention of leaving any evidence or records behind to catch them. The little worm that Criken had been working for them should help eat away at anything they might leave behind.

Lawlman ducked into the office and locked the door behind him. He looked over to see Zyke already stripping out of his prison outfit and down to his boxers. Once out of the jumpsuit, he kicked it off and it went flying over the desk. He followed it with his eyes and shook his head with a little smirk. “Not that I don’t enjoy the show but is getting changed really necessary?”

“Hey, if we’re going to do this. We’re going to do it while looking styling.” Zyke didn’t even turn as his friend walked in, too busy getting redressed as fast as possible. His shoes had been kicked off so he could pull on the dark slacks that he found in one of two duffle bags. Only once Zyke had them buttoned up and had the belt in his hand did he give Lawlman a cheeky little wink. “Your stuff is in that one over there unless you’d rather do this covered in sweat?”

“Funny..” But Lawlman didn’t argue further, already seeing the merit to Zykes words. He wasn’t exactly feeling comfortable in the sweaty shirt and jumpsuit either. He unzipped the bag that had a cute little ‘L’ written on the tag and began pulling out a nicely folded suit and tie from within. Looks like someone raided his closet beforehand. Underneath the clothing was the various pieces of equipment that he had asked Flimsii to bring for him. His guns, his ammo, his flak jacket and yes, even the eight pairs of handcuffs.

Zyke tucked his white shirt into his pants and adjusted the suspenders before pulling the suit jacket on over them. He grabbed his green tie and traced the soft material between his fingers for a few seconds before wrapping it around his neck. It was under the collar of the shirt but hung loosely as he refused to tie it.

“One of these days, you’re going to get caught on something for not tying your tie.” Lawlman offered distractedly as he was busy tying up the laces of his shoes. He could have gone without them but since someone went to the trouble of packing them, he figured he’d go all out as Zyke said.

Zyke laughed at his tone and shook his head. He was pulling out various disassembled parts to a rifle and was quickly attaching all the pieces together again. His movements were efficient and he had no trouble till he got to the scope. He had a furrow in his brow and his tongue was sticking out as he attempted to get the adjustable scope to go into place. “I’ve yet to run into any trouble yet. Besides I like wearing it like this, gives a little personality. Don’t you think?”

“Yes because when your gunning down targets and survivors are giving a description of what you look like they definitely tell the cops that.” Lawlman pulled on the leather gun harness and tightened the straps so the weaponry would sit perfectly under each arm. He adjusted his tone to be more high pitched as he carried on and retrieved his trademark bayonet. “Yes, I know he killed my employee but damn, did that hitman look styling in his loose tie and mismatched shoelaces.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to come at me like that. You’re going to leave me bald with the way you’ve been scalping me these past few jobs.” Zyke playfully complained, staring down at his shoes. He shuffled his feet while adjusting the series of flat throwing blades at the back of his belt. The holster clicked as he drew one in each hand and he tossed them up in the air, catching them by the tip between a thumb and forefinger. He flipped them higher and higher in a couple quick successions and appeared happy with the speed of which he drew them from the holster. They were sharp and well oiled and Zyke took in their appearance in pride before he put them away again and made sure the jacket covered the throwing daggers from view.

“Here’s the baby worm that Criken made.” Zyke murmured as he retrieved the last few things in his duffle bag. He lifted a usb drive that had a sticky note attached by an elastic band. He pulled the piece of paper free and skimmed the note, amusement dancing in his eyes. “He says ‘I love you both and I hope to see you both safely after this job. p.s, drinks are on me tonight.’ Aww, how nice of him.”

Lawlman looked up at him in disbelief and crooked a brow. “Really?”

“Nah, it says ‘make sure it’s actually working this time before you unplug it dummy.’ Thanks Criken.” He trailed of the end with a touch of sarcasm to his tone. “It’s not like I do this for a living or something.”

“Can you blame him after Washington?”

Zyke gasped in mock offense and pointed at Lawlman with one hand. The other shoved the usb into his back pocket.”We don’t speak of Washington EVER!”

Lawlman gazed down at his own green tie, almost missing the red he wore for Strippin but was also giddy to be back in his own colours again. He hummed to himself while tying it before continuing with a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m just saying, if you had of waited for-”

“La la la la la!!” Zyke plugged his fingers in both ears and started pacing in a circle, refusing to listen to him as he spoke. He continued to do so till his fellow hitman had gone back to the desk to grab the last of his gear. Only once he was sure that Lawlman had stopped berating did he unplug his ears. “Is it national ‘pick on Zyke’ day or something?”

“Nah, we just like to keep you on your toes.” Lawlman made sure both of his pistols had ammo before setting them back on the table and grabbing the extra rounds he had made sure to take with him. Two full clips. He would have to conserve his ammo but he wasn’t going to be the one taking on the bulk of the guards. He was the back up and escort for Strippin while Zyke went sicko mode in the middle of the prison with his automatic rifle.

Once his duffle bag was empty, he tossed it into the other one and tucked it away under the desk so it was hidden. He passed a pair of gloves that had ended up with his stuff but from the size and brand type, obviously belonged to Zyke. “Speaking of which, you ready?”

Zyke turned to face him while pulling the gun strap up to his shoulder. Once it was in a comfortable position, he grinned and ran a hand through his hair before taking the offered gloves with a thankful nod. “Just one last thing.”

Sitting on the desk was the last piece of equipment that Flimsii had snuck in for them. Two full face masks with details on the surface that clearly made the two of them individual in every regard. From the shape and colour to the straps and the handmade markings and foam inside for comfort.

Zyke’s mask was a militarized mask that he had altered to look less as such from the outside. It looked like a hockey mask from the outside perspective, with the weak fiberglass coating and dots around the mouth portion to add to the authenticity of it. Even though there were holes on the outside layer, the material underneath completely covered and kept his face protected. The inside was spacious to allow room for the air filter and had two layers strong lenses covering the eye holes to prevent himself from being blinded from flashbangs.The whole thing was white except for the giant black spade covering one eye completely. He had repainted it from its original colours to really piss of the Highrollers that were still in the prison.

Lawlman watched him as he pulled it tight to his face and adjusted the cross hatched straps at the back till it was a tight fit. Zyke was swaying his head and looking in all directions as he got used to the weight on his head now. “Please tell me you at least took the voice filter out.”

Because of how much equipment was attached, the mask had a bit of heft to it but Zyke didn’t wear it for finer jobs like sharp shooting. If they were in a prison, undoubtedly the guards would be equipped with tear gas and the likes. His mask would be able to filter out most of the noxious substance before it affected him. He hooked a thumb under his chin and flicked a switch that was nuzzled protectively under foam. ‘Heh heh..”

“Skkkkttt… And if I didn’t?” There was a flash of static that came from the mask before Zyke’s voice came through, two tones deeper and slower as he got used to hearing his own voice so loud and distorted. He hummed to himself and made a jazz hand motions before his face as Lawlman shook his head and turned to sit on the edge of the desk.

“Don’t come crying to me when you need to see a chiropractor after this for fucking up your neck.” Lawlman looked down as his own mask in his hands. He turned it to face him so he could get a look at the front. The mask looked like make of porcelain and was nice and smooth all around. It was seamless and the glossy surface hide the details of where his mouth and eyes were. It was painted into two different faces, split perfectly down the centre in a vertical line.

The left side was painted black with a big comedy smile that curled up almost obscenely past his cheek. Both the smile and the eye on that side were the only thing that was white while the right half was completely white except for the dark smear of black that made up the sad eyes and frown of tragedy. Turning the mask in his hands, Lawlman ran a thumb over the comfort foam on the inside.

His mask wasn’t as heavy duty as Zyke’s was and thus was more fragile and prone to breakage if struck to hard but it could take a bullet and keep out the gas so that was all that mattered in the situation. He could see perfectly out the mask from the inside because of the specialized material that acted like a two way mirror from the inside. People might be able to see his eyes but only if they got close enough to press their faces to his. There was no chance that would be happening.

“Breakfast is over.” Zykes distorted voice cut into his thoughts and he followed his friends gaze to see the clock on the wall. Just as they were looking at it, there was a beep as the intercom came on and a guard announced that it was time for prisoners to go to work. “Ready to go?”

Lawlman pressed the mask to his face and waited till the memory foam around the forehead and cheeks settled snugly before he tightened the strap at the back. He made sure it wouldn’t be slipping free anytime soon and gave a thumbs up. “Hell yeah brother. Let’s do this!”

“We came here together, we leave the same way.” The two came close and tapped their masks together in a show of camaraderie and Lawlman ruffled Zyke’s hair as they maintained that pose for a moment. At this distance, they could almost pretend that they were meeting each others eyes.

“Hoorah.” Zyke whooped quietly, knowing how loud the volume on his voice filter was. They pulled away after a second longer and he unhooked the rifle from his shoulder strap while his fellow hitman took out his pistol and clicked off the safety. With a final node, he took point in front of Lawlman and grabbed the handle, exiting the office without another moment's hesitation. Once outside of the room, Lawlman flicked the lights off behind them and closed the door behind them.

 

There was no turning back now.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a bit to get this all typed out but finally I weaved together the last details I needed to fill this chapter out more. It honestly felt bare boned when I first wrote it but it feels more fleshed out now. I know, i know... I keep saying that the prison break will take place this chapter and then the next one comes and goes but I'm trying not to rush just because i have to next act planned out.
> 
> I have a bad habit of rushing so it nice to have people to talk to and slow down so I can get it out of my head and properly portrayed in a way that's understandable and not rambling.. like I'm doing.. right now. lol
> 
> Once again, thank you to Boffymark for grammar and spellchecking this. Without him, My work would be nothing but unintelligent gibberish. He also snuck in a silly ending at the end of the chapter and it really made my day.
> 
> Thank you for driving me to continue working on this :)


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